Villain's View of a Hero
by Leukhendian
Summary: Is Ra's Al Ghul immortal? Are his methods supernatural? When the return of the League of Shadows in Gotham coincides with the appearance of an obscure female foe chasing both Batman and Bruce Wayne, the dark question unravels: Is Ra's truly dead...? Post-BB, AU ignoring sequels.
1. Gotham Knights

**Disclaimer:** I don't own any Batman characters or "Batman Begins". Batman belongs to Bob Kane and Bill Finger, "Batman Begins" belongs to Christopher Nolan. But the story is mine, and the original characters belong to me… So woe to the fool who steals _them_!

**Background:** Taking place some years after "Batman Begins", this story draws inspiration from the Batman cannon and "Batman: The Animated Series", while mainly being inspired by Nolan's vision of Batman, with my own give-and-takes. However, being published prior to the sequels, the storyline ignores the existence of "The Dark Knight" and "The Dark Knight Rises" and should therefore be considered an Alternate Universe with its roots in "Batman Begins".

**Summary:** Is Ra's Al Ghul immortal? Are his methods supernatural? When the return of the League of Shadows in Gotham coincides with the appearance of an obscure female foe chasing both Batman and Bruce Wayne, the dark question unravels: Is Ra's truly dead…?

* * *

**Villain's View of a Hero #1  
GOTHAM KNIGHTS**

* * *

**GOTHAM CITY: two years ago**

In the dark of night, the crooks hide in the depths of Gotham City. They wait for their prey, for the time to strike. Some nights are longer than others, some colder and bitterer. But sometimes it pays off. In the city of the corrupt it is not easy to find victims. Being choosy is risky business, as most of the fretting citizens would much rather be staying inside than walk out after dark. Eventually, some have to.

They brought it this far themselves, those corrupt men on the top of the hierarchy. They forced the homeless to carry knives and guns, drove them to desperate measures. The most honest man becomes the bad guy, going out of his mind, in constant need of food for his family. You end up on your own. You only serve yourself, and so, you make the rules. You're in _control_.

It's no wonder this city is home for madmen and half-minded criminals. It's a dirty place. But no one cares to do anything about it. They let it go; they've cut the bonds of civilization. Others have noticed this. Caution has been taken to hide from the city horrific plans at work. Everything happens in the shadows... _done_ by the Shadows...

Atop the metal flames in the torch of Gotham's version of the Statue of Liberty sits a man clad entirely in black. Night goggles covering his eyes, he watches another man silently, waiting for a reason to strike. This is the traitor. It is quite certain. He has seen him himself, dealing out information on things too important to be abused by his treacherous tongue. But, his master wants to be absolutely confident of just how much has been delivered. Therefore, he has to catch him in the act up close. This is his reason for being here tonight.

The traitor stands huddled in a cheap brown coat, shivering at the gusts of wind that come in patterned waves this far up. He's muttering to himself. "An hour I've been waitin'. I dunno why Nico wanted to meet me here, anyway..."

"He didn't, _Twitch_." This is another voice. The timbres are smooth yet hold a threatening undertone. The traitor turns as the man continues, "_I did_."

"_You_! You tricked me!" The dark form steps closer and he stutters, "W-w-what d'you want?"

"Information on the League of Shadows. Word is they've started operating here. _Tell me all about them_..." The voice picks deeper notes, a growling by now.

The spy grins. This is _he_. The man dressed like a creature of the night. Oh, how ironic it should be his round of questions now, as they would come unanswered. But not just yet.

The traitor laughs nervously. "There ain't that much to tell. I mean… I only worked _for_ 'em, okay? Not _with_ 'em!"

"It'll have to do… Now _talk_." He steps even closer to the traitor, forcing him up against the railing of the walkway. This makes the latter uneasier still.

"Okay, okay! They're supposed to have their claws in every dirty deal in Gotham."

The spy listens closely as he senses one of his comrades sneaking up from below, climbing along the steel of the statue's arm. Just in time.

The traitor continues, "In fact, word on the street is they got somethin' major going down tonight... Gonna boost some kinda new ultrasound gizmo, or somethin'."

This is a trick, a fake piece of information planted in the dirt by one of the Shadows. The spy had hoped it would reach the traitor.

The information has the inquisitor startled, and his eyes narrow dangerously through the petty mask he wears. "Who runs the show?" he inquires.

"I dunno, haven't heard nothing abou' that. But they say he's—" The traitor freezes when something catches his attention, and the spy leans in closer, seeing his comrade perched on the railing, ready to pounce. He reaches for a blade within his robes and then jumps, but the Bat is ready for him and slams him against a wall of metal, leaving the sword clattering down to the floor and the Shadow unconscious.

Now is the time. The spy jumps silently from the top of the torch and lands a small distance from the traitor. The spy sees him instantly, but too late. "P-please! He made me talk! I didn't wanna!"

"_No one_ betrays the League of Shadows..." The words have the desired effect. The traitor quivers as the spy grasps the front of his coat and lifts him easily over his head.

"No! No, please! I didn't do it! Aaaaaah!" he screams, but too late as he plunges to his death at the foot of the statue, the sea's heavy waves crashing his frail body.

"Such be the fate of _all_ traitors," the spy hisses. Unprepared for what follows his words he crumbles as his comrade is thrown at his back.

"You'll pay for that," growls the Bat as he closes in on his prey.

The spy will have nothing of that and aims with what his enemy thinks to be a gun. The Bat quickly moves out of the way as he presses the trigger, but no bullet comes out. Instead, a strong-wired grapple cuts through the air and wounds around one of the spikes of the statue's crown. Hastily, both of the Shadows leap over the Bat's head and glide down the wire.

They don't see that the Bat is following close behind, and he lands a powerful kick at them both as he, too, lands on the crown. They fall far to the side and luckily collide with the spikes instead of dropping off the statue. Their enemy gains in on them slowly.

Standing proudly from his drooped stance, the spy proclaims, "May the Shadows live _forever_." And with a solemn look at his comrade, they both press their hands against a mechanism placed below their jaws and release a toxin inside their masks that kills them instantly.

* * *

Batman reeled back and quickly clamped a gasmask over his mouth to protect himself from the fumes rising from the bodies. He approached them with a feeling of failure, the same he always felt when a crook got away or died needlessly. Getting within reach, he lifted the mask off one of the Shadows and found his eyes wide open. Checking as always, he lightly pressed his fingers against the man's throat to search for a pulse, but it was useless: He was dead.

With a snarl Batman jumped out from the statue and activated his wings, gliding leisurely down to the docks where the Batmobile was parked behind a wall of boxes. Unlocking it, the doors shifted back and he jumped into the seat. Starting out down the docks before the doors even closed properly, he said, "Alfred?"

The response cracked out of the speakers, "_Yes, Master Bruce?_"

The disappointment was etched in his jaw, lips tight in a frown. "It was a decoy. The informant knew less than any newspaper in the entire country. They'd given him tips outdated by their last visit."

"_When they stole the water vaporizing device from Wayne Enterprises, sir?_"

"...Yes."

"_Sounds like a night wasted. I shall have some tea ready when you return..._"

"I'm stopping by James Gordon for updates. Don't expect me soon."

"_Heard he made Lieutenant. I assume you had nothing to do with that..._"

The ironic tone caused a smile. "He helped to save Gotham from certain disaster. I like to think he beat the bat to that promotion. He could have walked away." Thinking about the train accident and the loss of his enemy and friend brought another frown. "He's one of the few good men in this place."

* * *

In one of the trainee buildings, Lieutenant James Gordon stood in a shooting range. Carefully aiming each shot with his Glock 23, they all landed square in the head of the phony bad-guy. Eyeing the holes carefully, he let the smallest of smiles cross his lips. Putting the gun down, he turned at the sound of a creaking door, in time to see it close.

"Batman?"

"Over here, Gordon." He materialized from the shadows.

"I was starting to wonder when I'd be seeing you again." The gruff look on the vigilante's face made him drop the playful façade. "Is something wrong?"

"The League of Shadows has returned to Gotham. They're the ones who've been causing the police trouble. I met two of them tonight. When I tried to nail them, they used some sort of gas to take their own lives."

"Yeah, that fits with what little we know about them." Gordon scratched the back of his head. The murders of several of the connections the police had around the gloomy parts of Gotham had made things complicated. It irked him that this threat had returned to his city, and he knew none of the guys up top would believe such a thing, which prevented any action from being taken.

"I took a sample of the gas in its liquid form. Have the forensics team run a test on it, and I'll see what I can find out about the League's doings."

"You think the Shadows are operating on their own?"

"They wouldn't strike alone. It's not their style. They need a leader."

"Then there must be a new guy pulling the strings. I mean, there was no body to be found in the wrecks of the train, but Ra's Al Ghul couldn't _possibly_ still be alive. There's no way anybody could survive that!"

"That's what I'm going to find out..." He stepped forward and placed the phial with the poison in Gordon's hand.

The lieutenant lifted it before his eyes, staring at the clear green substance. "The techs are gonna love this one. I don't know how long it'll take them, but I'll use the signal to let you know—" But as he looked up, there was no sight of the Batman. With a shake of his head, he muttered, "One of these days I'm going to nail his feet to the floor..."

* * *

There was never wasted any time on nursing sore limbs. Alfred found him in the cave doing push-ups, still wearing the lower part of the suit. With a sigh he put down the tray of fine china. "You shouldn't overdo yourself, Master Bruce. Who will chase the black-streaked citizens if you have a sprain in every part of your body? I couldn't possibly fit into that thing..."

With a huff of laughter Bruce stood up and accepted a cool towel from the butler to wipe the sweat from his brow. "Why not, I had so hoped you could cancel me on weekends."

"Not likely, sir." He moved to the tray to pour some tea for both of them. "Any word from Miss Dawes recently?"

"She took the job in New York," he answered somberly.

"I'm sorry, Master Bruce. I had hoped for the best."

"So had I."

With a sigh he walked to the computer base in the heart of the cave. Running a couple of checks on the parts of Gotham monitored by webcams, which he had personally planted recently to be able to keep an eye on things when he wasn't patrolling, but they showed no further sign of suspicious happenings. Finally a moment at ease. With nothing better to do, he grabbed the second phial from the Batsuit. He'd saved some of the poison for himself, so he would be able to compare the police technicians' results with his own. But there was another part whose view on this matter was needed.

Carefully dividing the liquid, he gave the third phial to Alfred. "Send this to Lucius Fox. Tell him it's urgent," he said, and returned to studying the computer screens. A few clicks on the keyboard brought a picture of Ra's Al Ghul up on display. A series of keywords made up a file on the villain, one word at the bottom indicating in a stark red: DECEASED.

Again he sighed. "And yet you still haunt me."

* * *

**Author's note:** So here it is, the first part of my first Batman story. I actually re-wrote this story, since I didn't like the original. I hope you enjoyed and will continue reading. Reviews will be very appreciated and I always respond in kind. Hearing from readers both inspires me and makes my writing grow. In short, I love people who review!


	2. Return of the Demon

**Disclaimer:** See the first chapter.

**Background:** See the first chapter.

**Summary:** Is Ra's Al Ghul immortal? Are his methods supernatural? When the return of the League of Shadows in Gotham coincides with the appearance of an obscure female foe chasing both Batman and Bruce Wayne, the dark question unravels: Is Ra's truly dead…?

* * *

**Villain's View of a Hero #2  
RETURN OF THE DEMON**

* * *

**THE HIMALAYAS: seven years ago**

There was only darkness. Only the narrow corridors snaking between the rooms of the manor were lit by antique oil lamps. The master chambers were blocked from the sun, the windows covered by shutters and heavy curtains, allowing only the faintest light to enter. They all hesitated going inside. There was no joke about the Demon's lair.

Eyes watched silently as a lone Shadow ventured the path to the entrance. In his hand was a document with a recently broken seal. It held bad news. He feared making report, but he must. Raising a gloved fist, he knocked upon the door.

"_Enter_," it came from inside.

He did. Squinting in the dark, he tried to locate his master, and found him sitting on the bed with eyes closed in meditation.

"Well?" he barked, somewhat out of impatience from the long hours of waiting.

"The city heals," the man replied.

There was a short moment of silence as his master tasted the news and spat them back out with distaste. "So, Wayne had an antidote produced..."

"What now, Master?" asked the messenger.

He glared at the younger man's ignorance. "This is merely a defeat. A new battle has yet to break from the ashes... Plans are already forming." He rose from bed and slid into a robe of Egyptian silk. "Word from the north?"

The man winced as if struck by the cheek. "Not as of yet, Master."

The Demon's Head growled. A roll of his shoulders calmed the storm caused by many nights of lack of occupation. "How many?" he demanded.

The Shadow thought long and hard. "I believe she said thirteen when last we heard, but it may have changed." He wasn't surprised at the sullen expression it gave his master. "It isn't a lot—"

"Indeed... Have the horses made ready. I'm going myself."

* * *

Her students crowded by the windows. Excited whispers slithered through the air. Oh, she knew who they spoke of. Stepping out onto the balcony, the sight proved her suspicions true. The riders came from the dangerous paths creeping through the mountains, the foremost bearing expensive robes. She had expected his coming. This meant he was displeased; she needed no fortune urchin to foretell such.

They soon reached the monastery, all but a few dismounting. She had the door opened before their feet even grazed the top of the stairs. He approached her and lifted her hand for a gentleman's kiss in greeting, "Lady Shiva..."

She mustered a smile. "We were not expecting you so soon. Seeing you again both pleases and worries me. Anything the matter?" She already knew. And he knew she did.

"It has been a long time... Do you have something for me or not?"

She scowled slightly at his patronizing tone. "I wanted everything to be ready for your arrival. I thought I had made it clear that I would send word as soon as they were prepared."

"I want to see them—"

"Not yet." With one hand she requested him to go in another direction. "Come. I wish to check how well you are along the process of your healing." Some of his men made as if to follow, but he ordered them to stay put. Shiva guided him to her chambers. They roomed her personal training center in the day as well as sanctuary in the night. "Sit," she said and gestured toward a large wooden table.

He did as asked and removed his jacket, starting on the buttons on his shirt. "You have some nerve, ordering me around," he muttered.

She grinned ruefully and patted his cheek in retaliation. "In my home you do what I tell you to. It is the only time I have such luxury." She coaxed him to lie down and put his clothes over the back of a chair. Running a testing hand between his shoulder blades, she scolded, "You're so awfully tense. Something is clearly troubling you."

"I don't need your sympathy, woman," he warned.

She huffed, "Yet you need my care. Now hush, and let me work." She lathered her hands with oil produced from different healing herbs. Smoothing it over his back, she worked her hands into all pressure points, pleased to find him beginning to relax. At this point, Shiva moved her fingers over his spine which caused his body to tense again. "Still in pain, I see. Have you disinclined to follow my advice?"

Head resting on his arms, his growl was mumbled. "I have done nothing _but_ rest." He sat up and looked her in the eye. "Why won't the pain be gone?"

She gave him a cynical look. "Your body was nearly destroyed. You shouldn't even have survived that crash. I am amazed that you have managed to heal so many bones. You ought to be glad for your unhindered condition."

His hands fisted by his sides. "I am nowhere near where I was in myself."

"It will come, if you allow it the time. But I see no need for you not to resume your training. Though I warn you, start slow. The strongest of men land the hardest when they fall. And there was no man stronger or more powerful than Ra's Al Ghul..."

* * *

Outside, the smell of orchids was strong. _Phalaenopsis_. The moth-like species. They were native throughout this part of Asia. He had learned the scent well through many years. Closing his eyes, he appreciated their aroma and stored it in his memory palace. He opened his eyes again as he sensed movement around him. Shiva had summoned her students. This was a moment he had anticipated.

She moved to stand by his side on the balcony overlooking the yard. He inclined his head to look at her. She was smiling. "Twenty-four well-trained candidates. Magnificent, each one of them."

"I believe that will be my judgment to make." He descended the stairs, and she followed a couple of steps behind him to carefully observe his reaction. And he was not entirely displeased.

The students stood in a line, chins lifted and postures straight. They were dressed in dark red robes, resembling Tibetan monks. The irony almost made him grin, for they were far from harmless. He said as he passed down the row, "You call them well-trained. I see no wisdom in their eyes." In fact, they looked robotic. They knew nothing but what they'd been taught, he was sure.

He stopped in front of one of them. Looking at the next beside him, he noted no difference in their faces, neither with the next, nor the next. Dressed the same, their robes blended together in a blur of red. Identical, apart from the hair.

He went further down the row, eyes wandering briefly over each one of them. At the end of the row he paused, gaze narrowing at the very last one... His nostrils vibrated with distaste, but he showed no visible sign for Shiva to see.

"Well? What do you think?" Lady Shiva's hands were clasped together as she admired her students. "They have all been taught well in what you request I teach them." Her lips pursed. "I do wish you would allow me to use _a bit_ of my own—"

He turned from the apprentice that had caught his critical eye and placed the plans of revenge at the back of his mind. She had done this intentionally to spite him... "For their purpose they need not your... _specialties_. It would only complicate things. I'll take them. They will, of course, be tested. The ones that do not prove satisfying will return here. You can do with those as you wish."

"How generous of you."

* * *

He stood to the side of the piste, in the crowd, hidden amongst the Shadows. The fencers walked on piste fully dressed in their black armor. He watched for a moment as they tested their weapons against each other, to make sure everything was functioning. They then retreated to their defensive lines. Prior to starting a bout, the fencers saluted each other. One of them, the more experienced, had the cheek of saluting the audience as well. It caused a few chuckles.

The referee sent both a firm look, as if to say _play nicely_. Reassured, he called, "Begin!"

The elder Shadow stood ready as the youngster charged with a fierce roar. They all reacted with the same energy in the beginning, until they learned that raw fury behind an attack does not make a powerful blow, rather weakening one's defense instead. A single hit with the flat of the blade to the back made the apprentice stumble forward in surprise and off the piste. He tore off his helmet and pointed at the other, exclaiming, "He cheated!"

"Always expect the unexpected..." The Demon's Head stepped forward onto the piste and removed his helmet as well, revealing his presence to the students. There was a small amount of satisfaction in seeing the young man swallow heavily. "We do not fight by the rules you have been taught. Why? Because our opponents do not have the courtesy to do so. Then why have you been taught the rules? So that you would not come here prepared for this."

"Wouldn't the preparation have been an advantage?" asked another.

He turned toward him and watched the forwardness in his resolve fall apart. "Advantage over an opponent must be gained, not learned. You cannot predict your enemy's strike, unless you learn to observe. Observation is all the preparation you can achieve, as observation can foretell the enemy's next move, but only if he is not aware of himself. If you can learn to control your own movements, and mask them with determination and alertness of your environment, you can defeat anyone. We can teach you the will of control. If you know your body's limits and your mind's weaknesses and strengthen them, you can become invincible. To manipulate the fears in others, you must first master your own... Are you ready to begin?"

* * *

Vanessa Gray reveled in the afterglow of the day's training. Wandering through each section of the practice, she paused at several sessions, as if observing herself from above, watching her mistakes and smiling at her improvements. But as she slumped down on her bed that night, her body's protests wouldn't appease. She was glad for the pain. It built character as well as muscle.

Thinking back to the heart-stopping moment when his eyes had met hers, she shuddered. She had been so certain he would have demanded that she be left behind. That would have ruined everything. And why he hadn't done so confused her to no end. Nevertheless, it had been a small victory. She was in. Now all she needed was to fight to stay.

Walking to withdraw the curtains to look up at the night sky, she began to shed her clothes. The heavy armor was so different from the light robes she had worn at the monastery, and she found that it hindered her movements in battle – as well as the fact that the bits and pieces tangled with her wavy strands of light-brown hair. However, in contrast to the red cloth, the black offered better ways of walking unnoticed. Yet, she did wish it came in smaller sizes, the armor plates fitting loosely around her feminine shapes.

She stifled some giggles at the thought of walking down to the master's quarters, demanding he hired a tailor. Like that was something to ask of Ra's Al Ghul...

* * *

**Author's note:** With me so far? Great! And again, I absolutely _love_ reviews!


	3. Car Trouble

**Disclaimer:** See the first chapter.

**Background:** See the first chapter.

**Summary:** Is Ra's Al Ghul immortal? Are his methods supernatural? When the return of the League of Shadows in Gotham coincides with the appearance of an obscure female foe chasing both Batman and Bruce Wayne, the dark question unravels: Is Ra's truly dead…?

* * *

**Villain's View of a Hero #3  
CAR TROUBLE**

* * *

**GOTHAM CITY: two years ago**

"Run into trouble on your spelunking trips, did you, Mr. Wayne?"

Bruce grinned shamelessly. He watched as Lucius Fox circled the Batmobile – or the Tumbler, as was its professional term – while observing the bumps it had gotten in the back. "Something like that." He had really ended up in a full-scale car chase down Gotham Docks, the drug dealers having wrecked the poor vehicle by ramming into it in an attempt to make him crash into the sea. That, plus many other incidents before it, had left him unable to repair it despite his best efforts, and he'd been forced to seek Fox's expertise and slightly more skilled hands.

The man frowned at the damages, but Bruce knew it was nothing he couldn't fix. "It'll take a couple of weeks, and that's workin' day and night."

"Can't you be a little more precise?" He knew it was an absurd request, as the car was clearly trashed. But Fox seemed to take it with good humor and a healthy curiosity – as to what exactly had happened, no doubt.

He wasn't surprised when he said, "It's quite extensive damage, Mr. Wayne. Repairing is one thing, but I gotta make sure everything functions all right. Unless you don't give a damn about suddenly finding your ass on fire..."

"Uh, a couple of weeks will be fine," Bruce said quickly. "You wouldn't happen to have something in reserve I can use in the meantime...?"

Fox smiled. "I think I have just the thing." He walked further into the crowded basement and brought Bruce far back where a collection of new objects was, covered in protective sheets. "It hasn't been tested yet, so you can do the honors. But be careful, is all I ask." As he removed the veil, Bruce's grin widened.

* * *

Bruce Wayne had never been one to play with motorcycles. But while carefully painting the metal-colored parts of the bike a more discreet black, he couldn't wait to try it later that night.

"I see you finally gave in to playboy urges."

He looked up at Alfred, who was looking over his shoulder. He smirked. "I'm told chicks love the bad-ass biker-types these days."

"And the monstrosity of a car wasn't _bad_ enough?"

Bruce chuckled. "Nah, gotta be a bike." He stood up to admire his work, looking for spots he might have missed. "The car's undergoing some tough reparations. This is just temporary until it's back in shape."

The butler looked him in the eye in such a way that Bruce was instantly reminded of when he was a child and would've played too roughly with his toys. But instead of telling him off and to treat his things with care, he said something else entirely. "So it's a Batpod, I take it?"

* * *

**THE HIMALAYAS: seven years ago**

"You look tired, Nessa."

She turned around to look at one of her fellows. "Don't call me that," she snarled.

The young man smirked teasingly. "Sorry, _Vanessa_."

She glared. "Don't call me that _either_. It's Gray. And _only_ Gray."

He flicked his finger at the yin-and-yang pendant hanging in a chain around his neck. "You should remember the Black and White every now and then." With a chuckle he walked past her, bumping into her shoulder as he did. She watched as he found a seat amid his friends by the long table.

_Friends... What a tacky word,_ she thought. She didn't need friends here. Friendship and camaraderie were for those who were too weak on their own. And she trusted no one. For this reason, Gray walked to the opposite end of the hall with her tray of food and sat down a short distance from the other apprentices; just as she'd done the day before, and the day before that. She could feel eyes on her as she ate. The soup was horrid, but she knew it would replenish some of the strength she felt had abandoned her completely overnight. This was dangerous territory. Any weakness to be shown and she may be cast away.

The small hairs on the back of her neck stood on end. Someone was watching her. Of course there were the occasional glances from the other students like always. Heck, even the Shadows would stare. But not like this. It never felt like this.

While pushing the veggies around the bowl with her chopsticks, her eyes wandered the surroundings. He was there... Above, leaning against the railing of a walkway on the upper floor. Her eyes focused on his. Though, at such a distance it was hard to tell if he knew she was looking.

"All right, kiddies," barked a man with the built of Schwarzenegger, "time's up. Dress up and meet outside in ten minutes sharp. No one-minute delays or we start without you. Get to it!"

* * *

Ra's Al Ghul glared as he reread the same sentence for the third time. The information on Gotham had a bad effect on his already stormy mood. When his eyes scanned the name of Bruce Wayne, the paper crumbled in his hand. He balled it up and threw it in the trashcan next to his desk. So, Wayne Enterprises had re-emerged from the ashes. Bruce was indeed rebuilding his father's empire. What a pain, then it would be harder to take down.

He walked to the window and looked out. His office overlooked the grounds, and he often observed his men training. But now the space was occupied by the students. If their training wasn't so damn important, he would have laughed. It was comical how many ended up lying supine on the ground, beaten by their Shadow opponent. But it was not a good thing, not at all. It bode ill for his plans.

His eyes landed on the girl again. She had surprised him, though he would never admit it. Since the first day she had, as the Gothamites would say, busted her ass through each lesson. Not always with successful results, but enough to impress. It had made him notice her, and that was impressive in itself. Her drive almost reminded him of Bruce. And to add to it, she was even a damn Gotham brat herself, so his sources informed him.

"Master..."

Ra's hadn't heard the door open and was slightly annoyed that the man had entered without his permission. "What it is it?" he growled.

The Shadow cringed at his tone. He obviously valued his life and decided to tread with care. "You sent for me?"

Ra's frowned and tried to recollect his thoughts. Ah yes. Before he engrossed in the cursed Gotham report he had asked to see the man responsible for the students' training. He had forgotten all about it. And with so many things on his mind, he couldn't place a name with a face, not even with the closest of his men.

"Master...?"

The voice stirred him from his wandering thoughts once again. Ra's turned and nodded at the grounds below. "That girl—what was her name?"

The man paused for a beat. "I believe you mean Vanessa Gray?"

"I wish to see her. Leave, and send her here as soon as they finish."

* * *

Gray followed the elder Shadow down the long halls, wondering why she of all people had been summoned. She had never spoken to the master in person. She hadn't even had the chance to say a _word_ to him. Why did he want to see her now? And why _her_?

The light seemed dull in this part of the manor. There were strange aromas drifting from somewhere down the end of the corridor. Incense of a sort. The pleasant smell increased as they moved closer to the last door. The Shadow pulled her to the side when they reached it. "You enter alone. Do not speak unless spoken to." He knocked on the door and opened it, then closed it after her once she was inside.

It was a beautiful room. With a large window in the wall opposite the door, the office would be bathed in the glow of the setting sun if it wasn't for the heavy drapes. Bookcases lined the walls, floor to ceiling, all around the room. Directly to her right was a large floor globe with a crystal sphere and mother-of-pearl inlay. She ran her hand across Europe briefly and watched the world spin. For such an ordinary object, it sure was expensive.

Gray turned and faced the other end of the room. Aside from the bookcases along the walls, a heavy wooden desk was all there was. Quite simple furniture, really. A rather vaguely decorated office for a man who could afford all the money in the world. Perhaps he favored simplicity? Then again, the furniture was of high quality.

She walked to the desk and switched on the green banker's lamp. The bulb gave no light.

"I always seem to forget to change that."

Gray spun on her heels and spotted him immediately. Parting the curtains to look outside, Al Ghul stood quite casually posed. She hadn't even heard him come in. Or had he been inside all the while? She wouldn't be surprised if that was indeed the case. He had probably been waiting for her in the shadows, watching her every move.

Forgetting about the Shadow's advice, she stated, "You wanted to see me." He strode swiftly toward her. The sudden closeness to the man she had only seen at distance made her hold her breath.

His slow smile didn't reach his eyes. "Sit," he offered and gestured toward the chair facing the desk as he walked to the large armchair behind it.

Gray waited until he was seated before sitting down herself. Al Ghul reached down and opened one of the drawers. He dropped a file on the desk and turned it toward her. She took a moment to look at the picture of her younger self and then looked back up at him.

"It doesn't say much. Name, place of birth, origin... Nothing but the basics. You seem to have a dusty past, Miss Gray. It's been difficult to dig up."

"My past isn't important. Not to me."

He leaned forward in his seat. "What you have experienced in your early life is what you must have learned from the most. It has made you who you are today. It defines what kind of person you are... You disagree?"

Gray forced herself not to scowl. "Who I am has nothing to do with where I came from."

Al Ghul smiled patiently. "Gotham." He rose from the chair and walked around the desk to her side. "Tell me... As a Gothamite, how would you define that cursed place?"

She huffed, "Just like that. Cursed. I'm not likely to believe Gotham to be anything else." She felt slightly unnerved when he moved to stand right behind her, his hands on the back of the chair. He leaned even closer, and she felt his breath on the side of her neck as he spoke in her ear.

"You say that without any doubt or hesitation. Does that have to do with your past, Miss Gray? Perhaps you see Gotham as a symbol of the past... Or, perhaps Gotham _is_ your past? Why? Did something happen there you're trying to forget? Something you traveled half the world to repress..."

"Why do you want to know? It doesn't _mean_ anything."

"Apparently, it means something to you. Or else you wouldn't care."

Gray turned toward him. She was slightly surprised by the closeness of his face, but didn't let it show. "Perhaps it does mean something to me, deep down. But why does it matter to you?"

Al Ghul straightened up with an expressionless face. "You may leave now." He walked back to his chair and paid her no further attention, reaching for another file in the drawer to scribble down some notes.

Gray watched him for a moment until he dismissed her once more without sparing her a glance.

* * *

**Author's note:** From the Batpod to Ra's office. Does it get any stranger? Hahah, anyway, don't forget to review! 'Cause Leuky _loves_ reviewers.


	4. A Gray Future for Batman

**Disclaimer:** See the first chapter.

**Background:** See the first chapter.

**Summary:** Is Ra's Al Ghul immortal? Are his methods supernatural? When the return of the League of Shadows in Gotham coincides with the appearance of an obscure female foe chasing both Batman and Bruce Wayne, the dark question unravels: Is Ra's truly dead…?

* * *

**Villain's View of a Hero #4  
A GRAY FUTURE FOR BATMAN**

* * *

**THE HIMALAYAS: two years ago**

Ra's Al Ghul had considered Bruce Wayne a friend, an ally. But Bruce had turned his back on the offer to stand by his side because of the means of the League to fight injustice. Ra's hated to have his best student as his enemy. But if he could not be persuaded, he had to be crushed.

As the years passed, the students' skills improved. Especially noticeable was that of the young woman. Since meeting with her, Ra's had decided to supervise her training personally. He never told her the cause of this, but it was all a part of the bigger picture.

His plans were not without flaws. With each year, Gotham healed from its wounds and grew stronger, like flees reborn in the dirt. But with flees came diseases, and Ra's was on the receiving end. Almost as soon as a report was placed on his desk, it ended up in the trash. They all held the same tedious blabbering about the same two subjects: Gotham or Bruce Wayne. Those two things were getting a dreaded effect on him, especially when connected.

"Good afternoon, sir."

Ra's looked up and saw the girl standing in the doorway. "Good afternoon, Vanessa."

She visibly cringed. "I will thank you not to call me that. It's Gray."

He gave her a mild smile. "Please, walk with me..."

* * *

Gray watched him anxiously as they walked through the gardens. It was strange that plants could even grow in this climate. Perhaps they had mutated through the generations so they could endure the rough weather.

With another smile, Al Ghul turned his head to look at her. "There's something that has crossed my mind often these past few years. I still know as little of you as ever... What exactly brought you here, to these bare surroundings? A young woman such as you should already be married and nursing a career."

Gray grinned mischievously, "Is that a hint, sir?"

A pensive look crossed his features. "I was merely stating fact." He hesitated before continuing, "I was married when I was your age. Unfortunately, much too soon, my wife was taken from me."

She felt like beating herself up for her carelessness. "I'm sorry... I didn't know."

He gave her a stern look. "Don't pity me. I lost my love to the violence of the world. The grief that followed... poisoned my mind and soul, and turned into a heartfelt craving for vengeance. I sought the means to destroy men like those who murdered my wife, and it made me become what I am. I have no regrets about the past. What doesn't kill a man makes him stronger."

Eyes searching the ground, Gray swallowed her empathy for the man. To pity him was like feeling sorry for herself – as she had felt the exact same way once, only with a different story. Facing him again, she realized they had stopped walking. He was staring at her.

"So what brought you here?" he repeated.

Gray sighed and gazed at her hands. "It would be easy to say I was led by the pain of my past; that I want revenge for some brutal deed. But that would be lying..." She took a deep breath and looked him in the eye, determined not to appear weak. "My father was a respected man, one of Gotham's finest. Though I admired him, I never loved him. He was no parent: He was a businessman. I was just a little girl when my mother died of a broken heart… And I became all alone. I hated my dad because I missed him. I hated Wayne Enterprises because they kept him away from me."

"So, you wish to take down Wayne Enterprises?"

Her lips lifted at the corners. "It's not that simple. Dad often told me about the financial issues that had followed the deaths of Dr. Thomas Wayne and his wife. Professionally, it's known as the Great Depression. The whole city had been repelled into action against the _bad blood_ of Gotham. What they didn't realize—what my dad didn't realize—was that they weren't really doing anything. They were more likely worsening the situation. Gotham's never been a safe place, but it's gone worse than it's been for decades. In that city, you're either criminal or corrupt. Because of his wrong judgment, my dad didn't survive the consequences... He was gunned down in a parking lot while searching for his car keys."

Al Ghul hadn't averted his eyes for even a second as she spoke. "There are those who work to remove places like Gotham from the face of the earth. We fight to rid of the criminal body and create justice in the world. When a civilization reaches its pinnacle of self-destruction through crime and terror, others must strike to restore the balance. That is what the League of Shadows has done since the dawn of time."

"I know," said Gray, "that's why I came here. I searched for years to find people who fight my cause, when I heard of you. I heard you were recruiting, and that's how I found Shiva. She told me a lot about you... You've struck in Gotham before, haven't you?"

Al Ghul's eyes wandered the scenery. "Twice." He frowned. "We almost succeeded both times. We tried first by gently introducing economics, to allow the city to devour itself through greed, but we... underestimated certain individuals... such as the Waynes. After that, we discovered we would have to take it further and tried with the element of fear. That nearly cost me my life because of just one man – Bruce Wayne."

Gray looked at him like he had grown an extra head. "Bruce Wayne? The playboy? I highly doubt that—" She was cut off.

"Wayne was my greatest student. I taught him to best any opponent – including myself, it would seem. He returned my favors with opposition when he learned of our means to fight injustice. He shares a... compassion for the criminals, which restrains him from doing what is necessary. In the end, he foiled my plans and left me to die."

"I don't understand. Why would someone like Wayne—?"

"Because of the murder of his parents. He feels guilty for failing them, though it was not his fault. He feels he failed to act on their behalf, and this regret turned into hate. He uses his anger to fight injustice the way he believes is right. He protects his precious Gotham at night, dressed in a cape and cowl, calling himself _the Batman_."

Gray's eyes widened. "Bruce Wayne is Batman?"

Al Ghul started walking again, and she followed a step behind him. "If someone stands in the way of true justice, you simply walk up behind them and stab them in the heart. Infamously dubbed the Prince of Gotham, Wayne hides behind a façade to keep his double-life secret from the world. As you know, Gotham is ruled by the rich and the corrupt. Bruce Wayne is one of them. He's out to clean up a city that likes being dirty and he has yet to realize that he can't both be _one_ of them and _against_ them. Therefore, he must be stopped."

"And you want _me_ to do that?" Gray said disbelievingly.

"By devoting himself to be Gotham's protector, Wayne is a threat worth keeping in mind. He is at home in Gotham. And to attack the dragon in its keep, one must be cunning, alert and greatly aware of the surroundings. You are my best student. Do you believe yourself incapable of what I ask?"

"If he's as good as you say he is, I'm not sure I'm skilled or strong enough—"

"There are more ways to break a man than to be stronger and smarter than him. The training is nothing. The _will_ is everything."

"But this guy is _Batman_."

"That makes no difference. He is still a mortal man. If he can bleed, he can die."

"So you want to kill him?"

"If necessary... Now, come. Your flight is waiting, and the airport is far from here." When he turned to walk back the way they came, she stepped in front of him.

"Wait... I'm leaving _now_?"

Al Ghul smiled. "You are ready. You have completed your training and are now worthy to become a member of the League of Shadows. This League has no room for hesitation. It has already been years since Gotham faced battle. We can't afford to delay things any longer."

* * *

As the van made its way across the bare terrain at the foot of the Himalayas, Ra's Al Ghul listed Gray's equipment and how it would be transported. He picked up a package from one of the crates. "Ninjitsu employs explosive powders as weapons or distractions. Be careful when you unpack these. If they ignite, they can incinerate inflammable objects, which could be disastrous." He looked up at her. "In that briefcase you're holding you'll find an improved laptop with high-speed internet access for immediate contact, as well as shuriken and other throwing weapons in the secret room below the fake bottom."

"Won't they be spotted by the metal detectors?" Gray gestured to all the bags and crates. "There are plenty of reasons here to be kept out of the country."

"Everything of metal has been treated with chemicals unknown to the blind world. According to American technology, nothing illegal is to be found in your luggage. As with the other things, they have been listed for unsuspicious companies and will be transported legally without any connection to you. If anything _should_ be discovered, it can't be traced to you anyway, so it would only be a waste of money, not a threat."

"You sure have it all figured out." Gray rubbed her shoulders. Despite the cold air in the car, that wasn't why she was freezing; it was the thought of returning to Gotham. But Al Ghul didn't know that when he offered her an extra blanket.

Cautiously, Gray gazed at her master over the edge of the mug clutched in her hands as she sipped the hot tea. Running his fingers along the walking stick by his side, he stared out the window in the backdoor of the van. "You really think it is possible? To break a man who spends wakeful nights protecting a city he believes can be saved from its own terror?" she asked him softly.

"Any man can be broken if you know how to defeat him."

She asked him again, "Do you want to kill him?"

"If necessary—"

"No, I mean, do you _want_ to kill him? You must hate him, but do you want _to kill him_? You spoke of him almost as if he was a son on the wrong track of life."

If there was hesitation in his eyes, it was well masked. "Bruce is an idealist, though he is not very different from you and me. He would be useful if it wasn't for his wrong impressions of the criminal mind. You can't show compassion to your enemies. They will use it against you. That is what makes him weak."

"But he would be in my position if that wasn't the case."

He blinked slowly. "What makes you say that?"

"You called him Bruce..."

* * *

**Author's note:** Ouch. Looks like Bats should watch his back. Now... Review?


	5. Bugs and Matches

**Disclaimer:** See the first chapter.

**Background:** See the first chapter.

**Summary:** Is Ra's Al Ghul immortal? Are his methods supernatural? When the return of the League of Shadows in Gotham coincides with the appearance of an obscure female foe chasing both Batman and Bruce Wayne, the dark question unravels: Is Ra's truly dead…?

* * *

**Villain's View of a Hero #5  
BUGS AND MATCHES**

* * *

**GOTHAM CITY: two years ago**

There was a familiar stench in the streets of Gotham; the smell of poverty and lies. Lower-class women bargained at drugstores for light meals and cigarettes. Children chased their stray balls in the traffic. So this was what had been home? Home is where the heart is, they say. Gray did feel her heart. It ached with each horrible sight.

She took a last look at the crumbled note in her hand before igniting it with her lighter. She didn't smoke. But it was a necessity to carry one. She held the burning paper until the writing was rendered to ashes, dropped it on the ground and squashed the remains with the heel of her boot.

Looking up at the tall building in front of her, Gray hesitated only for a second before walking to the entrance. Tired from the long flight, she took the elevator instead of the stairs. Her stop was at the 11th floor. The hallway was as dirty as the rest of Gotham, but she knew the apartment wouldn't be.

It was at the far end. Gray scowled slightly at the door, reaching up to fix the lopsided 47B. The key was safely hidden inside her coat. It fit in the lock. She had almost suspected otherwise.

The apartment was very modern and had a nice view over Gotham City; at least, as nice as it got. When she entered the apartment there was a door to her left, which led to a marvelous bathroom. A door next to the bathroom led to a walk-in closet, and a door on the other side of the small passage led to the kitchen.

The bedroom was joined with the living room, the bed placed by the long wall to the right. Beside it was a desk. On her left was a sitting area with a TV. Several bookcases lined the walls as well, undoubtedly Al Ghul's personal touch. The farthest wall was made entirely of glass, though much thicker than regular windows.

Gray placed her luggage by the main door and sat down in an armchair in the sitting area. Changing her mind, she grabbed the briefcase with the laptop and went over to the bed. A few twists with a key and the lid popped open. She placed the laptop on the desk and proceeded to pry open the bottom of the briefcase. The revealed shuriken came in different shapes and sizes.

_"Shuriken are a ninja's hand, not his fist..."_

She remembered his words during that very lesson. Throwing weapons had been one of the more tricky things to learn how to handle as to not injure herself. But as she grew more familiar with it, she gained an advantage that could be either deadly or useful for distractions.

The cell phone in her pocket suddenly hummed to life. Time to report.

* * *

"Telephone, Master Bruce."

Bruce paused in reading the data on the computer screen to pick up the receiver from the tray in the butler's hands. It still bothered him to be waited on, but he knew Alfred would have it no other way. Knowing already it was Fox, he said, "I hope this is about the car?"

"_I'm afraid it's not quite ready yet, Mr. Wayne. No, I'm calling about the phial you sent me some time ago... You were right. All the ingredients seem to only have origin in the Asian vegetation._"

So the League had either remained devoted to tradition or resided in Asia. "Any specific areas?" he asked.

"_Afraid not. They're common all over the continent._"

"I see..."

"_I took the liberty of producing an antidote, should you... encounter the toxin yourself. A batch is already on its way to Wayne Manor as we speak._"

Bruce smirked. "How very kind of you to think of me."

He could almost hear the smile in the other man's voice. "_One can never be too careful with hobbies such as yours, Mr. Wayne. Spelunking and base-jumping are among the most dangerous of billionaire activities these days..._"

"I'll watch my back, then." Replacing the receiver on the hook, Bruce looked up at Alfred. "Lucius Fox has sent some—"

"I may be old, sir, but I'm not deaf. I had no trouble whatsoever in hearing what Lucius said."

"Well... Nice to know you don't listen in on my calls," Bruce muttered darkly.

"I try my best..."

"Then at least you won't get a heart attack at the sight of drugs on the doorstep."

"The day I get a heart attack is the day you claim to get married, sir."

* * *

There was something in their smiles. The picture displayed a carefree couple. There was no worry in their eyes, no question if there would be a tomorrow. There was no fear...

Sometimes Bruce wondered if his parents would object to the life he led. Surely they wouldn't approve of his search for vengeance against the criminal underworld? They would want a happy life for their only son. But Gotham was not a happy place full of butterflies and flowerbeds. Perhaps it would be, some day, in a very distant future.

A hand closed around his shoulder. "They would have been proud of you, Master Bruce," Alfred said as if reading his mind.

"It's just the means to an end, right?" he said, trying to convince himself.

"What you are doing has done more to help Gotham than what any other man has attempted. However much I respected your father, his charitable efforts just weren't enough. Batman has made a difference in the society I had not thought possible."

"Difference, Alfred?" Bruce walked to look out one of the tall windows. "I still see the same terror everywhere I go. Perhaps more so than when my father was here..."

"You're just one man; a human of flesh and blood, like everybody else. And so was your father. You can only do so much at once, and hope the people of Gotham will learn to follow."

"But it's been years already."

The elder man offered him a patient smile. "I hate to break it to you, sir, but these things take time. You can't expect a miracle."

Bruce turned to face him. "What if what I'm doing isn't enough?"

Alfred paused on his way out. "No one expects you to be perfect. Both Batman and Bruce Wayne have their flaws; you're both mortal men, never mind the masks. The name and the face mean nothing. The symbol is only what you make of it." He added as he left the room, "And personally, I think you're doing a damn good job."

* * *

Gray waved her hand in front of her nose as she entered the murky Irish pub. The air was thick with the smoke of cigarettes and cigars, a smell she wasn't too fond of. The floor felt sticky under her shoes, caused by many spilled drinks over time. "Want a drink, luv?" called the Irish-posing barkeeper. The downtown Gotham tone was his give-away.

With a mocking smile, she sneered, "Irish coffee." Carefully scanning the table-area, she spotted a man wearing a red suit and dark glasses. He was continually lighting a cigarette lighter, staring intensely at the flame. He must be the contact. When served her coffee, Gray strode leisurely toward his table.

"You Veronica Vance?" he grumbled in a distinct New Jersey accent.

Gray smiled at her cover name. "That depends if you're 'Matches' Malone." She already knew it was him from the lighter in his hand and the match dangling from his lip. The man was a former smalltime mob leader and had allegedly been betrayed for his light play with the law, and was eventually overthrown by the bigger bosses. "So," Gray said, going straight to the point, "what can you tell me about Batman?"

"Why would you wanna know about 'im?"

"That's none of your business. What can you tell?"

"Well..."

Gray reached into her inner pocket and retrieved some money. "Here," she said and put her hand under the table as to not catch the attention of others. She slipped the small roll into his hand when he reached down. "Just don't think you can cash in on me more than once..."

Malone raised an eyebrow as he thumbed through the bills, debating if he should continue talking. "You stand your ground. I like it." He sighed dramatically with a lazy smile. "I dunno a lot about the Bat, but I know who does. Or, heard about 'im anyway... Thing is, if you really wanna know about _Batman_... you should go to the cops..."

She gave him an incredulous look. "The cops?"

"Yeh, that Lieutenant Gordon fella'. I've heard rumors he's the Bat's contact inside the police. Wouldn't be surprised if he knew somethin' or other. Probably knows more than the crooks around here, anyway, being a cop an' all."

"Then why hasn't anyone gotten rid of Gordon?"

He shrugged. "Beats me. I suppose people are too scared to take up the Bat, even through somebody else. Besides, those fucking coppers know how to handle 'emselves well enough. I've run into Gordon myself a couple o' times. Well, not personally. Stood pleasantly in the sideline while his men dragged me off."

Gray was tempted to smirk... but it was then she noticed something out of place. A tiny black spot was visible on the edge of Malone's collar. And it wasn't a smudge or a cigarette burn.

"What?" Malone asked, unnerved by her fixed stare. His eyes widened when she leaned toward him and plucked the small object off his shirt. "What the hell's that?"

Her eyes thinned into slits. She rose from the table without another word and rushed out of the pub without bumping into anyone on the way. The second the door closed behind her, she dropped the bug to the ground and crushed it with her foot. Who had placed the microphone on Malone? He was smart enough to know it was too dangerous to play both parts, so he wouldn't have known about it himself.

Catching a glimpse of movement, Gray looked up to see a shadowed figure perched on the roof of another building. She glanced down at the broken device by her feet, and when she looked back, the figure was gone. The corners of her lips lifted into a mystified smile. "How interesting..."

* * *

**Author's note:** See how soon this one got out? That's because I got a lovely review! Thanks to Raging Raven. I hope this update came fast enough, heheh.


	6. Warehouse Warnings

**Disclaimer:** See the first chapter.

**Background:** See the first chapter.

**Summary:** Is Ra's Al Ghul immortal? Are his methods supernatural? When the return of the League of Shadows in Gotham coincides with the appearance of an obscure female foe chasing both Batman and Bruce Wayne, the dark question unravels: Is Ra's truly dead…?

* * *

**Villain's View of a Hero #6  
WAREHOUSE WARNINGS**

* * *

**GOTHAM CITY: two days later**

"_Sir... Might I bring your attention to the sky?_"

The Batman looked up at the starry blanket above the dark scenery whizzing past. The Batsignal shone brightly onto a mass of clouds, beckoning his presence. "I've seen it," he said loudly over the heavy gusts of wind that whorled around him. He already knew where the trouble was by having listened to the police radio after he'd finished his usual patrol. He was on his way.

* * *

The sound of sirens became louder as Lieutenant Gordon neared the reported location. Police cars lined the pavement of the area around the dock warehouse, the sea blocking the other side. He pulled up near the other parked vehicles, his own civilian car bearing a stark difference to the others. Stepping onto the scene, he demanded, "What's going on?"

A detective pulled him to the side. "A passing civilian called 911 from his cell-phone about some disturbance; flickering flashlights, loud noises... A patrolling car was sent over to check it out. The two officers encountered immediate gunfire when entering the unlocked door. One of 'em is badly wounded, the other half-dead already." The detective paled. "Full of holes, him..."

"Burglars?"

"Hard to say. With the time of the call and until the officers' arrival, they should've been out of there with the stolen goods. No, it seems more like... like they were waiting for them. As if they were expecting their arrival, I mean. They might've even made the racket on purpose..."

Gordon walked around a squad car and glanced up at the dark windows of the tall, bare building. "And are they still inside?" He waited a moment, but got no response. He turned to look at the younger man.

"We, uh... we don't know..."

"Surely you must've seen if someone left...?"

"It is... possible that there might be other doors."

"Well, why aren't they covered, then?" Gordon insisted.

"We were waiting for you to arrive, sir."

"Oh, for the love of..." The lieutenant cursed under his breath. "I want eyes on all exits: windows, doors, Goddamn cracks in the walls and holes in the roof. And if there's spotted any movement, I want word of it!" Gordon ran a hand across his forehead to rid of the perspiration. It was an unusually warm Gotham night, biding the beginning of summer. Looking at the sky, Gordon frowned. "Who the hell turned on the signal?"

The detective came up beside him and gave him an apprehensive look. "No one did, sir..."

Brooding over this revelation, Gordon moved away from the crowd to check the surrounding area. He was cut short in his search when suddenly a large motorcycle skidded to a halt on the sidewalk right in front of him. He stared at the black figure that unfolded from the seat. "You're damn lucky my kid loves you, or I'd be forced to give you a ticket for careless driving." Unfazed, the Batman just stared back at him. Gordon grinned as his eyes ran over the bike. It was unusually soundless, the motor running like the soft purr of a cat, which was what had made for a quite stealthy arrival. "Change of style?" he asked.

"Car trouble," Batman replied with the hint of a smile. He nodded at the warehouse. "Any new activity?"

Gordon heaved a sigh and shrugged. "I only just got here." He added sarcastically, "You'd probably know more than we do, anyway." The vigilante chose to ignore that. "What I'd really like to know is what's going on in there. Two of my men are down, and I have no idea why!"

"I'm going in."

Gordon glanced at the building. "One of the injured was peppered with bullets... I hope you're wearing Saturday nightclub armor. Of course, I expect you've run into worse than clearing club rackets at gunpoint." When he turned to see the other's reaction, Batman was already gone. "I hate it when he does that."

* * *

Gray leaned against one of the crates on the upper platform overlooking the large storage room below. She watched the gorillas she had hired through an insignificant gang leader, who appreciated the favors he was promised in return (from the League). It was a get-two-for-one deal. The gorillas got to break the face of a guy, who actually had information she needed, _and_ their fun would soon enough draw the attention of Batman. That part of the plan was designed to prove as a test; to see what the Bat was really made of. Of course, she had no doubt they were no match for him. But that wasn't important.

The important thing was that she got to study his technique. He would've picked up on things Al Ghul had not taught him. _That_ was what she could learn from. By watching, studying... If she could use that to predict his moves, and if she could counter them before they were even executed... Then she would win.

But it was more than that, much more. There was more to it than knowing how he fared in battle. To attack the dragon in its keep, one must be cunning, alert and greatly aware of the surroundings. That was what Al Ghul had said. And no one knew Gotham better than Batman. That had to change, if she were to defeat him. They had to stand on equal ground. The tricky part was that there was a man behind the mask. And the things she knew about Wayne himself were limited.

Her ears strained at the weak sound of a window breaking. "He's here..."

* * *

Crouched behind a tower of crates, Batman pushed down a button on his utility belt, which activated the night vision in his mask. When the thin glass had slid across to cover the eyeholes, he scrolled to focus the lenses and zoomed in on the scene in front of him. He looked at the man tied to the chair, and his brow creased as tightly as that of his mask. The man was already unconscious. No need to worry about him for starters.

"Alfred," he whispered into the speaker inside his mask.

"_Yes, sir?_"

"What are their locations?"

"_One moment..._" The clicking of a keyboard was audible in the background. "_Four directly ahead of you, with two more to your far left. And I see three on a platform above, sir._"

"And police reports?" Batman inquired.

"_Standstill. They're waiting for a SWAT team, it seems._"

He groaned inwardly. "How long do I have before they arrive? I want to be out of here soon enough, as smoothly as possible."

There was a brief silence with more clicking. "_Estimated 20 minutes... I suggest you move swiftly, with a minimum of casualties I might add._"

"Batman out..." He shut off the connection to the Cave as to not be disturbed at the wrong time. He stared ahead. It would be a bad move to simply strike forward. They were nine to one, and if the men above were snipers, he'd be finished off with a straight shot. The armor could only take so much.

Choosing caution, he sneaked around the back where he could climb up on the other side of the platform, since all eyes were most definitely aimed the other way. Once at the top he peeked over the edge to locate the men with his eyes. All three stood by the opposite railing. He reached into one of the compartments of the utility belt and grabbed a handful of gas pellets. He couldn't risk throwing them straight overhead, should they not land far enough. Instead he lifted himself over the railing of the platform and threw one right and one left, including three to fall down to the floor below. Hastily covering his mouth and nose with his gasmask, he moved quickly amongst the three men in front, landing swift blows to the back of their heads.

Wasting no time, Batman ran across the platform and jumped from the railing. He spread his arms slightly to let the fabric of his cloak slow him down. The two men hiding in the side came at him, but slowed as the gas filled their lungs, and they too began coughing furiously. He kicked them onto their knees and struck them on the side of the neck, causing them to go into a temporary coma of sleep. The four men who had been beating up the civilian went down equally effortless.

Batman stared down at his fallen fiends. It had almost been too easy. He reactivated the communicator to inform the butler of his success. He didn't get further than, "Alfre—" before he was cut off.

"_Sir, behind you!_"

Batman didn't have time to react before a hard kick felled him from the back. He flew several yards, unprepared for the sudden attack. When he got back on his feet, he only just turned to see the blurred image of an approaching person when he received a hard blow to the head. He sagged down on his knees and looked up at his attacker. It was a woman. He couldn't see it clearly, but the blurred physical features told him so.

"Coward," came the brief statement... and suddenly he breathed smoke. She had snatched the gasmask off his face.

With a drastic thought, he swept out with his foot and kicked the woman's legs out from under her. When she fell, he scrambled to his feet and hurried out the way he came.

* * *

"A woman, you say?"

"Yes."

"Are you certain?"

"No." Bruce lifted the heavy mask off his head and shoulders and turned to stare at Alfred. "It could either have been a very feminine man or..."

"A woman," Alfred concluded with a crooked eyebrow. "That's a rather farfetched theory, wouldn't you say?"

The younger man offered him a dumbfounded look as he wiped his brow. "You got something better? Based on what we have?"

The butler smiled widely and pointed toward the main computer, "Precisely, sir!"

Interested to know what he might have found, Bruce followed him to the center of the cave. He leaned on the desktop and watched as Alfred drove his fingertips down on the keyboard with unnecessary force the way the older generation did. Then it appeared to him, "All equipment has tracers, right? So supposedly you can find out where she is?"

Alfred shook his head. "No good, tried already. It points to the warehouse, so she must have rid of it before she left; unless, of course, she's still there... though that is unlikely because of the mass amounts of police."

Brows knit tightly, Bruce asked, "So what _do_ we have?" He looked up at the screen behind him just as a sound file popped up.

"Just before I was broken off... I caught her voice on a recording."

* * *

**Author's note:** I know the plot is progressing rather slowly. I need to get to a certain point for it to really flow. So, consider this as building up the story, eh? But I hope you liked it! Finally some action.

Big thanks goes to the reviewers:

**Phurie Dae:** Thank you! I hope you'll like the direction I'm taking Gray's character in just a few chapters. You'll get to know her better soon, I promise. Storyline's still building after all. And don't worry, much more Ra's to come! Thanks for your review, darling.

**Raging Raven:** Hopefully you didn't mind the wait. Took me a little while to get this one out, but I don't think the wait for chapter 7 will be as long since I'm now out of school for the summer. More interesting things to come. They'll increase as the story runs along. Thank you so much for reviewing!


	7. Good Cop, Bad Cop

**Disclaimer:** See the first chapter.

**Background:** See the first chapter.

**Summary:** Is Ra's Al Ghul immortal? Are his methods supernatural? When the return of the League of Shadows in Gotham coincides with the appearance of an obscure female foe chasing both Batman and Bruce Wayne, the dark question unravels: Is Ra's truly dead…?

* * *

**Villain's View of a Hero #7  
GOOD COP, BAD COP**

* * *

_Coward_... _Coward_... _Coward_...

Bruce frowned as he played, replayed and fast-forwarded the single recorded word spoken by his mysterious attacker the previous night. He had spent hours filtering it from the background noise to get it to sound as clear as possible. On the face of it, it sounded to him as a woman's voice. But one could never be too sure...

He started when Alfred placed a tray with a cup of hot coffee in front of him.

"You've been down here for hours. I thought you might need some caffeine."

Looking from the tray to the man beside him, Bruce said, "Thanks." He felt Alfred's eyes on the back of his head as he sipped the coffee and proceeded with listening to the short recording.

"If you play it ten times fast, perhaps you will actually get somewhere," was the butler's wry comment. Bruce sent him an exasperated look. Unfazed, Alfred suggested, "Have you tried running it through the register? Who knows, you might've run into her before."

With an arrested look on his face, Bruce wondered why he hadn't thought of that. Deciding against voicing his thanks, he logged into the register and had the file run through an identification analysis. He watched hundreds of recordings slide past the screen, all snippets of conversations he'd saved in case of... well, in case of something like this.

Sipping more of his coffee, Bruce was caught by surprise when suddenly the screen froze and a gray box popped up in the corner, informing: MATCH FOUND.

Bruce pushed his chair closer and read the data of the clip found. There were two voices, a man and a woman's, one of them identical to that of his attacker's. Curious, he pushed the play button at a random place in the recording.

"_That's none of your business. What can you tell?_"

"_Well..._"

"_Here... Just don't think you can cash in on me more than once..._"

"_You stand your ground. I like it... I dunno a lot about the Bat, but I know who does. Or, heard about 'im anyway... Thing is, if you really wanna know about _Batman_... you should go to the cops..._"

"_The cops?_"

"_Yeh, that Lieutenant Gordon fella'. I've heard rumors he's the Bat's contact inside the police. Wouldn't be surprised if he knew somethin' or another. Probably knows more than the crooks around here, anyway, being a cop an' all._"

"_Then why hasn't anyone gotten rid of Gordon?_"

Having heard enough, Bruce clicked the pause button. He remembered this. He'd followed 'Matches' Malone one night, after having run an 'inquiry' on one of Malone's business partners as to learn who his new client was. So that was who had attacked him? The woman from the pub?

He rewound and played the beginning.

"_So... What can you tell me about Batman?_"

"I believe you've got yourself a new fan, Master Bruce," said Alfred.

* * *

With a frustrated grunt, Gray put all her weight on the crowbar. The wooden lid moved less than an inch. Wiping the perspiration from her brow, she fixed the crate with a foul glare. Why did they have to be full of nails? They were _impossible_. She couldn't open all these by herself.

Gray reached into her back pocket and fished out her cell. Pressing the redial button, she held it up to her ear. "Dan, it's me. Send the guys over, I need some assistance."

"_You got it..._"

Dan was a distant cousin of Malone. After finishing their cut-short meeting, she and Malone had arranged another. She'd been pleased by the men his cousin had gotten her for the rendezvous in the old warehouse, and he'd been rewarded accordingly. But the most of the men had been snatched by the cops. The ones left she'd kept for herself, as a mixture of pit bulls and hands-on men. They handled the boring stuff, so to say.

Thinking of the previous night brought a frown to her face. Gray wasn't one to admit, but she'd been disappointed. Tremendously. She had hoped for something better than antics and a brief show of muscle. It was a coward's answer, she decided. Perhaps she had exaggerated. It might have been too much for a test. He'd chosen to handle the situation with caution, because of the police and the hostage, which had limited his response.

She ended up with the conclusion it was her mistake. But it was alright, there'd be plenty other occasions to study him.

When the boys arrived and had been set to work with the crates, Gray left the storage room in the basement and traveled the long stairs up to her apartment. She turned on her laptop and entered the files concerning Gotham City PD. She'd already gained access to the police files (which had been surprisingly easy), and had carefully studied the ones concerning James Worthington Gordon. Not a lot was to be known about the man professionally, so she expected that to learn what he knew about the vigilante she had to get to his more civilian side. His contact with the Caped Crusader must be behind-the-scenes.

Again she picked up her cell and dialed a different number, making contact with an entirely different part of the world. She frowned at the unfamiliar voice that responded, but then, there were so many. "It's Gray... I need a favor from him."

* * *

A tree. It was a rarity in Gotham's concrete environment. One could easily forget the beauty of wind softly brushing against the leaves, swaying the heavy branches ever-so-lightly. Gray found herself lost in thought, trying to remember the last time she'd seen a tree in the central part of Gotham City. She focused on that lone piece of nature just outside, not at all realizing the secretary had returned.

"Miss... _Miss_? The lieutenant is ready for you now."

"Hm?" Gray's eyes finally strayed from the window. "Oh, right. Thank you."

Gordon's office was small and cluttered. While it wasn't as crammed as a lowly officer's, the lieutenant was hidden behind stacks of files and papers. Gray's eyes landed on the Gotham Post balanced on the corner of his desk, the title 'Victorious Vigilante' glaring up at her in bold letters above a picture of the blur of a disappearing black cape and cowl. Glimpsing at what she could see of the subtitle, she was startled to find the lieutenant looking at her as she glanced back up.

"Showing up everywhere these days," Gordon said, indicating the subject of the paper. "Must have been a surprise coming back to Gotham after so long."

"Quite the carnival," Gray responded curtly.

Gordon scanned the report in front of him, shifting his eyes between that and her. "Five years in Interpol," he mused. He fixed his eyes on her. "What would bring you to the Gotham City PD, detective? Quite a change of scenario, I'd think."

"Exactly that. I felt I'd been outside the States for too long, and it was time to come home. Since I was brought up in Gotham, it was only ideal I should seek to come here."

He gave her a searching look, and skimmed the report again. "You do realize that the... special favors you were offered in France hold no account here? And you'll have to be retrained and updated, from the long break after your apparent injury."

"I know. I think of it as a fresh start."

"Well, there's nothing wrong with that." The corners of his lips lifted in a placid smile as he stretched his arm to shake her hand. "Welcome aboard then, Miss Andrews."

* * *

Facing herself in the mirror, Gray slowly removed the small hairpins holding the blonde wig in place. She didn't like deception, she realized with surprise. And that was what her entire life had become. A lie to the world, fake appearances and fake identities; none of it was her.

What was really left of her?

Was it the fierce warrior student clad from top to toe in black armor in the distant Himalayas, a member of the League of Shadows, a lackey of the Demon's Head? Was it the spy in the pub, whose only intention was to get what she wanted, the same woman who had observed emotionlessly as a man had been beaten to a pulp in an abandoned warehouse? Or was it now the phony insider cop, who only sought the attention of the Dark Knight? Or perhaps still the wounded Daddy's girl...?

What was her? The revelation that she didn't know, shocked her. Perhaps she was something in-between it all, a small part of everything. But where did that leave her? What kind of person did that make her? Perhaps she would find out, in the end. It could change. After all was said and done, she could be left with something entirely different. That word, she suddenly realized, was the only single word to define her.

Different.

* * *

It was far past midnight. The home was dark. The only light came from a pulsing hand-rolled cigarette in the bedroom. James Gordon sat on their bed, his and Barbara's, sifting through a trail of thoughts as he puffed on the cig. He only made them himself when she wasn't at home. There was something calming about rolling the fine-cut tobacco into the white paper wrapping.

There had been a short moment of doubt about smoking inside. Going out on the small terrace or hanging out a window had grown on him. Besides, Barbara would be able to smell it when she got home from the cinema with the kids. God, he hated the fights. That one would sure be something to squeal about to her shrink. Daddy smokes in the home.

_Should kick the habit,_ he thought, _but then, more than 1/6 of the world's population smokes... Wouldn't make shit for a difference._

* * *

Bruce couldn't sleep that night. For a change, it wasn't because he feared the dreams... the nightmares. Batman haunted his mind, bitterly seeking to find rationality in his current problem. The growing detective in him thirsted for an answer to the riddle. Who was this new enemy? What were these distractions meant for? Did it have something to do with the Shadows? He almost hoped it had. That would narrow down the disorder of the many wrongs that kept arising.

On many days he cursed Batman; for many reasons. He cursed what had created him. He cursed what it did to him. He cursed the hurt it caused him. He cursed the life it gave him. He cursed all that had to do with Batman. But at the same time, if Batman didn't exist, then neither could Bruce. They were apart, yet they were the same. There couldn't be one without the other. That was their curse.

His thoughts took a sharp turn away from the dark thoughts. He stored them at the back of his mind, placed them in the dark, for now. For how long, he didn't know. He didn't care. It couldn't steal away at his presence of mind. He didn't have the time.

What to do about this attacker of his? This obsessive _fan_, as Alfred had said. Bruce was sure he would see more of her, sooner or later; he had a hunch it wouldn't end with that one brief encounter. What he had run into was just a taster. There was more to come.

* * *

**Author's note:** I have a challenge for you all. See, this is the seventh chapter... And the Romance part of this story's theme hasn't made its appearance yet... So I've been wondering, when you started reading this, what pairing did you think it might be? A Bruce romance? Or maybe Ra's? Or something else? I'm curious. And do you still think it is whatever you thought to begin with? I'd love to know, since I'm too evil to tell just yet.

And here's something else. If there are any Americans reading this, which I'm sure there are, how am I doing with the language in the story? I'm more used to writing British English, but since Batman is as American as they come, I wanted to keep it that way. So if there's anything you see that needs a bit more Americanization, do tell me!

Big thanks goes to the reviewers:

**E Kelly:** I am so flattered you took your time to review _every_chapter! To show my appreciation, I'll take my time to comment each one... I think I'll have to break the comments down, lol. Here we go.

**1.**I'm glad you think I mingled the different worlds of Batman well. I think it works better that way. There isn't all that much to derive from just the movie, eh?

**2.**Yes, I did borrow Shiva for my own purposes, muwahahah. I thought she would fit in nicely that way, as a sort of healer besides a great fighter. I haven't actually read anything with her, but studied what there was to find on the net.

**3.**I absolutely adored Morgan Freeman's portrayal of him! What little I've seen of Fox in Batmantas (only place I've run into him) made me think, what a dull character. Not in Batman Begins, he isn't!

**4.**I thought it was about time we learned a bit about this so-far-very-secret character. Gray does play an important role, being sent to break Bats and all.

**5.**What can I say, there's nothing like a fan fiction writer's liberty! To bend and shape what's already there is a dangerous thing, but fun like hell. And thank you! I'm glad you find my English plausible. I've worked hard to get where I am with the language, and my top marks in class shows it off, heheheh.

**6.** I just finished reading the Dark Victory graphic novel, and I agree with you. There's a reason the Batwriters build Batman's adventures up with a lot of crime and investigations and itty-bitty lovable details in-between. Because it works. It doesn't get boring at all, but builds up tension, just like a crime story should. I hope you'll think I'm keeping it like that in future chapters. Thank you so much for your lovely reviews!

**Mimi:** Aww, gosh darn it... You make me blush, curse it all, hihih. Well, it was part of the plan of putting the story up here – both to make it available for more to read, but also so that Quizilla readers could choose which site they prefer. I hope you thought this chapter was worth waiting for too, and I hope you'll keep enjoying it, and will leave more wonderful reviews, eh mate? Cheers!

To be continued...


	8. Finding the Path

**Disclaimer:** See the first chapter.

**Background:** See the first chapter.

**Summary:** Is Ra's Al Ghul immortal? Are his methods supernatural? When the return of the League of Shadows in Gotham coincides with the appearance of an obscure female foe chasing both Batman and Bruce Wayne, the dark question unravels: Is Ra's truly dead…?

* * *

**Villain's View of a Hero #8  
FINDING THE PATH**

* * *

**GOTHAM CITY: Mother's Day**

Park Row. Crime Alley they called it now. He hated this place. Yet every year he had returned here since he came back to Gotham. Bruce still thought back on his youth to before he left, when he had craved the blood of his parents' murderer. He still couldn't decide if he was relieved when Falcone's hired gun got Joe Chill, or if he regretted it wasn't him.

Bruce stopped abruptly in his steps. The flowers felt heavy in his hand. Two crimson roses. _She told me that pearls were only for a special night, such as opera nights,_ he thought to himself. _Maybe, if she hadn't worn them..._ Bruce instantly stopped that train of thought. He would never blame his mother. Never. He had been the one who insisted that they leave in the middle of the first act. He had been the frightened little boy who unknowingly led his parents to their deaths.

_"Bruce... Don't be afraid..."_

Bruce opened the slender box with a gloved hand, despite the weather's warmth of a dying spring, and placed the roses delicately on the ground. "I promise you, Mother... Father... I will never give up on Gotham. Not until every last crook has left the dark corners and the citizens can feel safe at night..." A silent train of images slid past his mind's eye. Scarecrow. Joker. Two-Face. All of the crazies and madmen that haunted his city. "...Not until every last one of them is locked away."

_"...Don't be afraid..."_

* * *

Gray squinted through the rain as it beat down on the windshield of the 60's Cadillac Coupe De Ville. The windshield wipers whipped frantically back and forth to clear her line of vision. But she wasn't looking ahead. The car held in brake on the curb as she alternated between glancing up at the rear mirror and peering out of the window opposite the driver's side. She reached over to pull open the door to the passenger's seat when he finally came out.

"Care for a lift, Lieutenant?"

Gordon leaned down and looked inside, brows lifted in puzzlement. "And why would you think I didn't come in my own car, Miss Andrews?"

Gray smiled abashedly. "I overheard your call with the mechanic in passing. Come on. No need to hail a cab in this god-awful weather? Bad timing to get pneumonia on Mother's Day."

"I guess you're right..." The lieutenant glimpsed at his wristwatch for just a second before climbing in. He offered her a brief smile as he closed the door. "I promised the kids I'd be home in time to help them scheme a last-minute gift for Barbara before she gets home."

"Well, I'll hurry then." He didn't need to speak up with the look he sent her – _keep to speed limit_. She almost smirked at the idea of going on a road rampage with the real cop beside her. Sometimes her mind played such macabre tricks on her. Gray cleared her thoughts to keep her mind on the subject at hand. "Wife working late?" she asked as she pulled the car away from the sidewalk and put it in gear before starting out down the street.

Gordon shook his head at her question. "She's volunteering for the Wayne Foundation... something or other with establishing a new ER in the newly restored hospital. I'm supposed to pick her up when she's finished in the evenings, but she had to take the bus when the car broke down this morning."

"Too bad..." Gray muttered absentmindedly. Her mind reeled at the mention of Wayne's philanthropic tendencies. She still wondered in what way there might be an answer for Wayne Foundations being a money scam. That's what she'd always believed such organizations to be; nothing but a way to lure money out of people's pockets, making the rich people a little richer.

"I don't believe I told you the address...?" Gordon trailed off.

"Right!" Gray swerved in a turn to pull into a more direct path to the lieutenant's home as he gave her directions. She had known where to go all along, but had taken a more discreet route – as she'd waited for him to give her the tip for the faster way to get there – so he wouldn't notice she already knew where he lived.

Soon enough, the car pulled up in front of the house where Gordon lived. He thanked her more than once on his way out of the vehicle, and Gray stayed parked to watch him on his way to the door. The next day she planned to suggest a break to the coffeehouse just a corner away from Headquarters. There was no certainty the lieutenant would approve of the idea so soon. But the sooner he began to trust her, the sooner she'd reach her ends.

This was only the first step there, after all.

* * *

Gordon sighed as he closed and locked the door to the barely middle-class apartment. "Barbara? James...?"

"_Daddy_!"

He steadied himself against the doorframe to the kitchen as the four-year-old boy flew through the room and latched to his legs. "Easy there, kiddo," Gordon said with a broad grin as he picked up the eager child. "Where's Babs?"

"You're late..."

The lieutenant glanced up at the sulky girl seated by the table, sticky fingers fumbling with gluing colorful stars to an over-decorated card. He walked over and kissed the red hair on top of her head, even though she stretched as far away from him as she could to avoid it. "I came as soon as I could. Job kept me a little late."

"I don't care. We're almost finished _anyway_. Come on, Jimmy, let's go watch the cartoons." Barbara grabbed the boy's tubby hand and dragged him into the small living room.

Gordon groaned and stuffed the last packet of cigarettes in his chest pocket before hauling the full bag from the trashcan. He took his time on his way to the bin outside and stuffed a cig between his lips before lighting it. When he'd dumped the trash, he stood staring blindly ahead, taking a calming drag from the cancer stick.

"Cute kid..."

Gordon jumped in surprise and cursed when he dropped the cig to the ground. He looked up at the Batman who stood tranquilly just beside him, like he'd been there all the time. For all he knew, he probably had. "Who? Oh, Barbara..." He shook his head. "Sometimes I wonder if it's just me, or the whole situation. I suspect maybe she still resents me for my brother's drinking."

"Her father."

"Yeah," he confirmed. "When we adopted her, Barbara... my wife, that is... she convinced me it would be no trouble at all. We were expecting little James, and being a lowly police captain at the time, I didn't think we could afford either of them. But when Roger and Thelma died, the poor girl had nowhere to go. I couldn't just let her be put in some orphanage..." He looked up at the vigilante as if seeing him for the first time just then. "I don't know why I'm even telling you this." When Batman's face remained like stone, he continued, "So what are you doing here?"

"There's a new _friend_ in town; one that's been tracing information on me. She was the one who framed the warehouse episode."

"You say 'She'..."

"I can't be sure. I've been waiting for something new, but no move has been made. Have the police experienced any unusual activity lately?"

"Not that I know of. So you think she's been trailing you. What could she possibly want to learn that she doesn't just want first-hand knowledge of? That's what all of Gotham's villains do. Scheme something dramatic to draw you out. But why go around the fence? Seems like more work. The only one who made such trouble was—"

"Ra's Al Ghul."

Gordon carefully wiped the night air's dew off his glasses and looked intently at the Batman. "You believe there is a connection?"

"If there is, it's well-hidden. But it's too soon to tell. For now, we can only consider the Shadows' appearance and my new acquaintance as separate issues... Did the forensics find anything new in the toxins?"

The lieutenant shook his head. "Nothing you didn't report last time. But if they are indeed still operating from Asia, they're far from home. I sure as hell hope they don't plan another attack like the whole toxic water thing." He looked up as the other man turned away and said quickly, "Batman... I wasn't the one to light the signal that last time... If the girl _does_ have anything to do with it all... why you? Why would they still be after you when it's the city they want destroyed?"

Batman turned back toward him, the intense look in his eyes shining clearly through the shadows. "Because I believe in Gotham..."

* * *

**THE HIMALAYAS: a week later**

Even the biding time of summer made no overall changes of weather in the mountain scenery. Where the odd trees sprouted new leaves and mountain flowers would bloom, nothing came to notice in the house of the Demon. In a tense cycle, the Shadow warriors trained, practiced and trained harder. On other days there would be no activity at all. It all came to rest on their master's mood, which changed erratically like that of a caged lion. Everyone knew they were waiting for something. No one knew what.

"_Enter_..."

The brisk command allowed entry to the one Shadow that dared caution the lion's den. He glanced around and found the office of the Demon's Head covered in darkness. The window shutters were closed, the heavy burgundy curtains draped across. He daren't comment his leader's odd behavior as of late, but came instead to stand in front of his desk where he sat in the light of a lone candle.

"Good news, I hope."

The Shadow didn't even question him. There was only one matter Ra's Al Ghul would refer to in recent times. He jumped when eerie blue eyes met his.

"Well, speak up, boy. Is she making progress?"

"Hard to say. We haven't been updated for about a week now. There is no excuse but that she must be busy. She hasn't delayed reports until now."

"She certainly isn't hurrying things. That's good... That's good..."

The Shadow watched several strange emotions cross his master's features as his eyes strayed to the candle. Sensing his wandering thoughts, the younger man eased in his stance, waiting for Al Ghul's presence of mind to—

"You can go..."

The words were soft, almost a dismissal off his tongue. Clearly there were important matters to be thought through, plans to be made. Perhaps in the morning there would be more to tell his fellows, but as of now, he was no longer welcome. The Shadow quickly abandoned the cool, electric atmosphere of the room, and closed the door gently after him. What could they expect next?

* * *

**Author's note:** Oh dear, dear, dear... Has it been so long? Time flies when you live a different life. I'm even one year older now, since I just had a birthday October 13, hehe. Seventeen now... I feel old. But that's beside the point. I'm sorry for not updating sooner. Don't really have any excuse, just haven't quite had the time, although this chap's just been waiting to post. But here you go, at last!

I applaud the reviewers (who were so kind not to bring pitchforks):

**E Kelly:** Step by step, our little kitten tangles her claws in the Bat's world. Even more so next chapter, but oops, enough said. Let's just wait and see if Gray burns her paw, or if the Bat is the one to get the first bite, graawr. But for now, I'll wipe my brow, nice to know my American survives so far. Let me know if I ever touch thin ice, eh? And skating over to a third subject, the infamous romance, well, it's long on its way, I'm sure you can see. It'll happen, but takes patience, lol. Thanks for sharing with me, love.

**Mimi:** You'd be surprised how much my ethnicity gets mistaken. When I write British, people think I'm British, and apparently so with American too. Niiice. I like that touch, when I'm in fact neither of the two. My English teachers should be proud. But I suppose it's more applause to TV and meeting the real deal, lol. Again, shifting onto the romance part. I like how you like I don't rush into things, 'cause I like not rushing into things, so I guess we're both happy, hahah. Cheers for the review!

**Crow Skyler:** Thank you! Exactly what a fanfiction writer loves to hear. Makes taking the patience to write a created character so much more worthwhile. I hope you'll like future developments!


	9. A Blonde Moment

**Disclaimer:** See the first chapter.

**Background:** See the first chapter.

**Summary:** Is Ra's Al Ghul immortal? Are his methods supernatural? When the return of the League of Shadows in Gotham coincides with the appearance of an obscure female foe chasing both Batman and Bruce Wayne, the dark question unravels: Is Ra's truly dead…?

* * *

**Villain's View of a Hero #9  
A BLONDE MOMENT**

* * *

Almost a month had passed. Gray had continuatively raised the bar of Gordon's confidence in her, and felt that now she had finally reached a safe ground with the man. The last few nights he had invited her up to a breath of fresh air on the roof of Police Headquarters with him, a cup of hot coffee promised to be included. Gray had found the level in their relationship where she thought that maybe it was time to caution taking the job further.

One of such nights, she casually strolled to the edge of the roof, glancing down at the streets of Gotham before looking up at Gordon to make eye-contact. When he smiled, she walked over to the Batsignal spotlight. She looked at it with feigned curiosity. "How does it work?" she asked aloud.

Gordon came over to her side and pointed at the keyhole beside the switch. "Turn the key, flip the switch, and that's it," he said. "It's an advanced lock, however. Only a special key can turn that one."

_Or a very skilled lock-pick,_ thought Gray humorously. Sure, it had taken a while for her to get the lock to budge, but with all of the right tools procured by Ra's Al Ghul himself – or at least a very trusted man under his command – it was no hard sweat if one had the patience. It had been worth it. The Bat had come to the warehouse, thinking Gordon had requested his presence.

"It's visible all-over Gotham City," the lieutenant continued.

"What about daytime trouble? Or cloudless nights?" Gray prompted, gazing up at the dark sky above them.

Gordon lifted an index finger to appoint the question. He patted the side of the spotlight, shrugged and said, "He had some device worked into it, after such an incident. There's a sort of homing device inside that activates if it senses the weather conditions aren't right. How it works, I have no idea."

"So he, what, walks around like a regular person, and suddenly the face of his watch turns into the shape of a bat?" she joked.

"Frankly, I wouldn't be surprised."

* * *

"Master Bruce?" Alfred turned around the corner to the dining room and, still not finding the master of the house, walked to a silverware cabinet that hid a secret entrance to the caves under ground. He strode down the narrow, spirally staircase and cursed his aging limbs. "Master Bruce, the signal—"

"I know."

He turned left once at the bottom of the stair and found his master already pulling the heavy cowl of the Batsuit down over his head. "I took the liberty to listen to the police radio, sir, but nothing indicates more than the activity of common mugs. I shouldn't see it necessary for the lieutenant to be calling—?"

"He probably has something to report, then," Bruce interrupted shortly, busying himself with reloading some of the compartments in his utility belt.

"You know, you don't have to heed every call," the butler said apprehensively, following the younger man around as he picked up several small devices to put in the belt. "You have plans for tonight. Very important meetings—"

"This is more important, Alfred," Bruce warned, finally looking up at him. "Gordon's never had the signal up if it wasn't urgent. It may be useless clues, but I'm not turning it down. Not now, not ever. He trusts me to be there."

"Very well, sir..."

* * *

Gray itched to scratch her scalp. The combined heat from the coffee clutched in her right hand, occasionally sliding down her throat, and how her uniform isolated the warmth from her skin made her body's temperature uncomfortable. Her scalp was damp beneath the blonde wig and she couldn't wait to get back to the apartment and take it off.

"It shouldn't be long now," Gordon assured her and sipped his own coffee.

Years of building self-control, learning to expect anything, Gray didn't jump when a large form brushed past her at that very moment. But it did not prevent her eyes from widening at the gothic sight that stopped once in front of Gordon.

"Ah, here we have you," Gordon said. In difference to her, he had looked a little unsettled at the silent and sudden arrival of the costumed vigilante.

"Trouble?" the dark figure questioned curtly with a slight inclination of his head.

"Actually... my colleague here, Miss Andrews, has been requesting a meeting with you. She is retraining and has just started research on the criminal mind, and thought that meeting Gotham's additional force of protection could prove useful in a report... That is, if you are willing to assist?" Gordon gazed penetratingly at the other man for a long moment, and seemed satisfied at the lack of protest. "Good... I'll leave you two alone, then!"

While Gray's inquiry watched Gordon leave, she spent the moment watching him now she had the chance. He wasn't quite what she had expected. He was more. What she had thought to see was a man in tights with a blanket around his neck, perhaps more or less like the notoriously dressed Superman, who had always been extravagantly publicized with pictures. But this creature of the night was clad more similarly to the armors that the Shadows wore, albeit with some rather theatrical changes.

This was the man she compared herself to. This was her enemy; the sole reason for her complicated mission, her current way of life. But furthermore, this was the man who had denied the grand glory that she was now offered... And Gray so passionately wanted to understand why.

As she was wondering about it, she didn't realize he was now looking at her. She quickly masked her discomfort at his stone-faced silence and said, "So what do you prefer to be called? The Batman? Bats, maybe? Or perhaps _the Dark Knight_ fits your character better." Gray offered him a fool's pleasant smile and hid the gloat in her eyes.

"I'm Batman," he said.

"...Really, now? I thought you were more complex than that. Guess the most complicated men wear the simplest of brands." She paused with a grin. "If there even is a man underneath all that." His lack of comment made her quirk an eyebrow. _Guess I'm not gonna get a rise out of him,_ she mused to herself, and wondered what might. Tired of the following silence, she added, "I'm Viola Andrews. Pleased to meet you."

He did not shake her proffered hand.

* * *

The blonde wig was tossed in place on top of a mannequin head with a disgruntled growl. Gray nearly upended the whole dressing table, but put a hold on herself. What should have been a breakthrough had been a complete fiasco. She had stood there on the Police Headquarters' rooftop for a good half-hour, and all she had gotten out of Wayne had been time-wasting silence or vague responses. Nothing that got her closer to the man.

She had expected that to infiltrate the man's life, she would have to get close to him. But had she been trying to push the wrong buttons? Was she taking an all too wrong approach? It had only been the first attempt, but she pondered that maybe the way wasn't to provoke something out of the tough exterior of Wayne's other identity, to try and win the trust of a lonely warrior. Maybe she had to confront his softer side. His vulnerable self. Not Batman, but Bruce...

* * *

"No, Evans, just file the reports... No, I'll have a look at them later, don't you worry, I have plenty of time on my hands... Yes, I'm sure! Just check up with Rosa, she'll give you the available dates... Good... Yeah, you too. Thank you, bye." Bruce stared at the phone for a moment before he wiped his brow and tapped the air-condition ventilator on his desk with an inquisitive finger. Why did it have to break down on the seemingly hottest day of the year?

Bruce's attention fell on the communicator when the small, red bulb lit up, indicating that Rosa was waiting on the line. He pressed the speaker button. "Yeah?"

"_This month's copy just arrived, sir... Do you want the, uh... the dating section?_"

He smirked at his secretary's tone, which was most obviously affected with a blush. "Sure, give it here." He added to himself, as he removed his finger from the button, "Might as well give the public some gossip." His bachelor status was widely spread on every hopeful female's tongue. The society (and the magazines) craved that he dated. If it meant a different woman on his arm at every show-up because of his pickiness, then so be it. It didn't hinder Alfred from encouraging him to read the single-dating announcements every once in a while.

He smiled in his best mirror-practiced fashion and accepted the newspaper from Rosa when she entered his office and left just as quickly. The smile was instantly gone as he began to scan the desperate cries and diary-like pages of clotted letters meant to catch male attention. Bruce suspected at least half of the poor individuals to be on the brink of depression. He read this in the overly self-flattering words and long abused clichés.

_Likes long walks on the beach... Maybe she should leave Gotham then,_ he thought ruefully.

But the very last entry did catch his eye. It wasn't only the single woman's small picture, which gave her much appeal, but the words seemed to belong in social party chat-up, not a tabloid. Among various other points, she was searching for someone who enjoyed theater and tasteful music. In depth she sounded more like a high-and-mighty madam looking for a gentleman friend rather than a common girl who would put up a letter in a dating section. But if she was looking for fancy dinner and entertainment, Bruce couldn't really say no to the pleading redhead. He wrote down the contact info and made a mental note to check up on it once he returned to Wayne Manor.

* * *

**THE HIMALAYAS: meanwhile**

"No... more... _excuses_..."

The Shadow shivered undetectably. The cool Himalayan air that carried on a breeze through the large open window burned in his throat as he breathed deeply to calm his nerves. His master was symmetrically smoothing his hands along the windowpane in a repeated movement. He had become increasingly restless as the weeks had passed. With time, the smoldering flame had been gaining strength, and the embers of the fire were starting to burn. The Demon's Head had been patiently waiting, but for weeks no news had come from Gotham.

The Shadow cleared his throat, "Master, I—"

"Is she here?"

Again he was forced to steer his mind in whatever direction his master's had taken. "Lady Shiva has asked that you rather come visit her in her temple, where she feels more—"

"She will come where I tell her," Ra's Al Ghul corrected. He turned around and then suddenly leaned back against the wall with one hand clutching the window firmly to steady himself, his face tense in an expression of old pain.

The Shadow directed his eyes to the floor, not keen on being in the position of witnessing his master in a weak moment, knowing he would be punished for claiming such in front of the others. He blocked out the sound of a repressed groan and still never looked up. Everything only lasted a moment. But it was something he was trusted to overlook.

"_Leave me be_..."

He never questioned him, but left in silence.

* * *

**Author's note:** Happy New Year, everybody! Long time, no read. Sorry about that, life's a busy little thing. As for a new fact in the new year (and a small excuse for my absence), I shall now be introducing Batfan Info, a note thingy consisting of coincidental, story explanative, fun or fascinating information, and also a letterbox for the standard Batman-interested to write to. It will appear at the end of chapters when something should be noted within the chapter itself or the Batman universe in general.

I was a bit sad about not getting any reviews about chapter 8, but I guess one can't get lucky every time. I don't know if I've lost my darling reviewers from the long wait, or if it was just a rather event-empty chapter. I'm hoping for the latter. But thanks to **Haladflire65** for commenting chapter 1, hope you see my cheers if you got this far in reading, hehe. As for all of you, I can promise that as from chapter 10 things will be speeding up, so I encourage you to hang on if your reader's grip has been losing the story. Give the tension a chance to build, is all I can say. Plus, the Romance part of _Villain's View of a Hero_ is still forthcoming, and we're getting rather close now. Would you wanna miss it? Only you can decide!

**Batfan Info:** _Miss Andrews_

Curiously, "Miss Andrews" was an alias once used by Lois Lane – Superman's lady friend – when, after restyling her hair and dying it blonde, she obtained employment at Lacey's Department Store in the hopes of gathering some information about some thefts. I did not know this when I made Gray a blonde-wigged phony cop, the Superman info just popped up in a web search by accident. Funny how things coincide.


	10. Facing the Demons

**Disclaimer:** See the first chapter.

**Background:** See the first chapter.

**Summary:** Is Ra's Al Ghul immortal? Are his methods supernatural? When the return of the League of Shadows in Gotham coincides with the appearance of an obscure female foe chasing both Batman and Bruce Wayne, the dark question unravels: Is Ra's truly dead…?

* * *

**Villain's View of a Hero #10  
FACING THE DEMONS**

* * *

The smell of the dirty seawater below burned in his nose as he squad on the edge of the jetty. A flash of memory brought back the small stab of panic as the car had been pushed dangerously close to the edge months before, during the chase that had ended in its temporary demise. Like a small number of times before, Bruce had surfaced behind the mask to show an emotion; at that time, it had been fear.

He seldom thought on the possibility of his own death. He had seen people die around him, mourned the deaths of his parents and had, on rare occasions, wished for the deaths of others, of his enemies. But it was as if the image of the Batman made him feel immortal. It was as if, when he saw the surprise and fear in the enemy's eyes, he felt... powerful. And that idea shocked him to his core. The idea of feeling powerful by the fears of others... Wasn't that what his enemies did?

"_Master Bruce..._"

He blinked slowly, wondering if he had imagined the small sound in his ear.

"_Master Bruce?_"

The voice had been more insisting this time, and Batman took form again in the mask, remembering his surroundings. "What is it, Alfred...?"

"_Finally. I have been trying to reach you for the past five minutes. Is everything all right, sir?_"

The ice around his heart wrapped tighter and clamped down. He rose and retraced his steps along the jetty to the landing, climbing into the seat of the Batpod. "Everything's fine," he said definitively, closing the former subject firmly, locking it away in the cavern of his memories.

* * *

The wig was a passionate red – smooth and slightly curly, waving down her spine to mid-back. It was much more of an eye-catcher compared to the casually straight-haired blonde wig, which was only about shoulder length. The wigs were Gray's own idea. The different identities she took on hadn't been reported to the League, but rather – she felt – would be more effective if it all remained secret.

As she drew a soft brush through the red strands, she paused while staring at her reflection. She put the wig back in place and walked to the glass wall, looking down at the busy streets of Gotham, eyeing a certain route to navigate between the buildings. Gray had taken to wandering that very route in the early evening, before she was to meet with Gordon in the office to finish up for the day. Though the first personal greeting with the Dark Knight had gone far from according to plan, she had made up her mind to remain close to the lieutenant inside the police, in chance it might prove useful later on. But it was not enough, she knew now. Progress was made too slowly that way.

This was why her original plan with the blonde cop had taken a twist and spread to other paths. While the position in the police would act as a way to try to gain the trust of Batman, the red wig she had acquired was to be used for a more alluring type to try to attract Bruce. And while that card was waiting yet to be played, she had conjured a new idea – a new character... namely herself.

* * *

Her eyes wandered around the parts of the street that were reflected in the empty shop windows, and a small sigh left her parted lips. Just beyond came the deafening noise of one of the larger shopping streets of Gotham City that had yet to fall apart. Why had this evening's stroll taken her here? It didn't matter, seeing as the growing hunger in her stomach called for a club sandwich.

The hot day had turned to a cool evening, and she pulled her coat a bit closer around her neck. She noticed the rain of the previous night had stained the streets with puddles, which had not quite dried in the sun, and stepped cautiously into the curb repeatedly to avoid wet toes. And apart from puddles, she had to sidestep couples passing her on the sidewalk.

Soon enough she stood on the corner of the main street where late night shops were still open and beckoned with their cozy gleam. Gray moved steadily in the direction of a snack bar where she was sure to find something to satiate her hunger.

Her eyes were aimed only on her destination, so as she did not notice the man coming very narrowly close in her direction, he bumped into her as he passed, and something small and round was pressed into her right hand. He was gone quickly, and Gray was too slow to turn around to see him. She loosened her fingers, which had closed around the object in reflex, and in the palm of her hand lay but a small blue flower with a piece of paper wrapped around the stem. Taking a quick glance around her, she slipped the flower into her pocket and continued toward the bar.

Once taking a seat, she sat still as the waiter walked to the kitchen with her order. Checking that no one was looking, she reached for the flower again and pulled it out of her pocket, holding it out of sight while untangling the small note. Her stomach clenched in shock at the words scribbled down delicately:

_He wants to see you._

Gray glanced up with a small jolt of her heart when the doorbell chimed. A man entered. He gave the cafe a sweeping look, taking all things in notice. She couldn't help but feeling like he studied her in the brief second his eyes captured her table. But he paid her no further attention as he moved to the far end of the bar. Curiously, Gray looked to a man sitting on a barstool closer to her. Had he just looked at her as well?

_It's just paranoia,_ she told herself. She'd been spending too much time with suspicious kinds of people; been on edge for too long.

But staying on the paranoid side, she scanned the cafe. There were a couple of men scattered over the place. When she turned her head toward another, she felt like the previous was looking at her, and vice versa. It wasn't until she turned around 180 that she caught two men playing cards staring at her, as they averted their eyes too late.

"Overwhelming, isn't it?"

Gray jumped and turned in her seat, suddenly facing the one person she would never have expected to see. Not now. But there he was.

"...That haunting feeling of watchful eyes?" he continued.

"Al Ghul—"

"You _may_ call me Ra's," he said in a low voice, undetectable outside the conversation between the two, "but not here. You must refer to me only as Ducard."

Gray gulped and inspected her hands, thinking of what to say. "What are you doing here?" she said slowly, breaking the words into pieces.

He gave her a brief smile. "You know I have retired... I just thought I would stop by and see how my favorite student is getting along."

She frowned at the cryptic words; soon she understood that he would not speak openly in public. She was no actress, but she knew what he hinted at and played along. "Let's have some tea at my place."

* * *

"_...And as of before this morning there had been no warning of the Chairman's leave from_—" With a discordant sound Gray turned off the TV when she moved past it on her way to the kitchen, having forgotten to do so when she left. She removed the water kettle from the electric pad and stood on her toes to snatch two teacups from the glass cabinet above. Pouring the hot water, she simultaneously fished tea bags from the top drawer and dropped them into the cups.

Gray felt unaccustomedly unnerved by her master's presence, as he seemed to hover around, lingering at certain places to investigate her personal touches to the apartment. Meanwhile, as the tea bags were soaking, she closed the blind of the kitchen window and nearly ran to pull the large, heavy drapes over the glass wall in the living room.

"Interesting idea..."

Gray caught herself in a startled step before she could drop the fine china she had just brought out from the kitchen. Glancing down at the couple of drops that spilled from the tea, she looked up again and froze at the sight.

"I haven't been informed about this," said Ra's Al Ghul upon lifting one of the wigs off its stand. He put it back down with a trace of humor in his eyes, and lifted an eyebrow in her direction. "Perhaps, now that I have come so far this way, you may at least serve to indulge me in your plan?"

Gray gulped again and shook herself mentally, striding steadily toward the coffee table in the sitting area where she put down the two cups before she would spill the rest of the tea. She glanced at him over her shoulder, and then took a seat as he indicated for her to do. As calmly as she could, she began to tell him about the personas she had been using – and would be using – against Wayne, explaining carefully what she intended, revealing only so much as she dared.

All the while she failed to notice that Ra's had remained standing, watching her intensely as she spoke. "Your plan is a scheme that may span over months at a time," he said when she finished. "Time we don't have. But, I will grant you the one chance. If you believe you can succeed the act of these theatrical events within a year's course, then I encourage haste in your actions. I am a patient man, Vanessa, but my patience is wearing thin. I have waited a long time for justice to be done... don't force me to wait much longer."

Gray didn't even correct his use of her first name – the name she loathed so much. She was so surprised and relieved he had accepted her terms that she sat motionlessly on the spot, with her teacup in hand, openly staring at him. "That's it? You're not angry that I have kept my plans from you?" Her father would have been.

Ra's looked at her strangely with an off-center smile. His eyebrows climbed a notch in a questioning expression, and he sighed as he finally sat down in a leather armchair to the left of the couch upon which Gray was seated. "Is it... punishment you seek?" he asked slowly. "A berating of actions, teaching you to never run astray from my commands? I am not a cruel man, Vanessa. However, I am not imperturbable either. I expect only of you to do as directed from now on... And it would be wise for you not to think that I would be as understanding in any other case."

Gray watched attentively as Ra's sipped at his tea, holding the round cup steadily in the palm of one hand as his eyes closed in a state of calm. "So... what are you really doing here?" she dared ask after many long moments of silence. "I know you didn't travel this far just to check up on me."

It took another moment before he opened his eyes. His pupils were dilated in the gloom of the closed drapes, making his intense blue eyes stand out, dark and radiant. The same ever-spying eyes were now set in an emotionless face, and the weather-tanned, careworn folds and wrinkles in his skin did not appear quite as harsh. He looked harmless in the relaxed position, seated in casual surroundings, dressed in a more everyday kind of sandy-colored suit. But she knew he wasn't.

She was startled out of her trance when he suddenly moved around, the new leather of the chair squeaking with the movement. He bent forward and placed the teacup on the saucer, glancing up at her as he did. Finally, he spoke. "I have dealings in London later this week."

"London," Gray mused, taken aback. "The US is quite a detour, then."

"I said 'later this week'," Ra's restated, "I have business in the States as well." But he wouldn't tell her. That much was clear. She didn't take offence, but knew it was a necessary feat. No one was to be trusted with too much.

When Ra's rose once finished with his tea, Gray followed him to the door. She noticed he leaned a little too heavily on his cane. Was it just an act, or was he really hurting? She couldn't be sure. There was no knowing for certain with this man. She knew he had taken certain lasting injuries after the last strike on Gotham, though she didn't know the facts.

Gray stopped short behind him when he paused in reaching for the doorknob. He turned toward her and paused again, looking into her eyes. With an unexpected movement, he slowly stepped closer toward her and brushed the back of his hand along her jaw line, just barely touching her skin. "I have faith in you," he said, smiling gently with hidden encouragement. "Don't disappoint me."

Had his whiskers always looked so soft? They portrayed coarseness – perhaps it was the gray coloring – but in the gentle light of the small hallway of the apartment, they looked silky to the touch. Gray wondered if she could... And no sooner than considering the idea was she startled by the alarming thought. _The heat must really be getting to me,_ she concurred with herself embarrassedly, blaming the elements. Surely there was no other explanation.

But the birth of butterflies in the pit of her stomach tried to form a disagreement. It was from their midst she tore her answer: "I won't." But, when he smiled and left, the butterflies burst colorful wings and took flight. Was she betraying herself already?

* * *

**Author's note:** Hey guys, I'm sorry for the everlasting delay. Wow. The reasons are listed in a news post on my profile, so I won't delve into that. I hope this chapter made up for it, and chapter 11 is coming along in the writing process as well. My muse is back, for the moment. Judging by the approaching sequel of the movie, it will be getting worse – in a good way, heheh. I missed posting. It's been so heavy on my conscience, you have no idea. I love hearing from all of you!

Especially thanks:

**Mimi:** Grammatical mistakes? Do elaborate, I'm trying to do better, no matter how small they are! Hahah, so anyway, yeah... I know chapter 9 was very short cut, all-in-all. Not much to do about it now, though, that's just how it turned out. I hope this chapter made up on that, despite being half a year late, eheheheheh... Don't kill me?

**SupportSeverusSnape:** Thanks for all your reviews! I hope your friends might like it, too. And that you liked this chapter, perhaps? And, hopefully, you want to be loyal despite the past half year wait? I'll try to be more loyal by posting more, now that I can... And yes, I will support Severus!

**wickafae:** Well, here's your Dark Knight filler! Bet you didn't count on it coming out the day after you reviewed, did you? And I can honestly say I'm very flattered by your review, and very happy to be able to provide a new chapter so quickly... or, quickly in a sense, anyway... Speaking of The Dark Knight, you might be interested in the One-Shot Joker fic I wrote. If the movie turns on my Batsignal, I might even write a whole Joker series. Just remember... Go to the cinema like I will: With no expectations. If you have expectations, you mostly end up disappointed. But then, it's hard not to have expectations for the Joker... But, and this is coming from a longtime fan... Heath doesn't look to leave much for wanted! R.I.P.


	11. Moth to a Flame

**Disclaimer:** See the first chapter.

**Background:** See the first chapter.

**Summary:** Is Ra's Al Ghul immortal? Are his methods supernatural? When the return of the League of Shadows in Gotham coincides with the appearance of an obscure female foe chasing both Batman and Bruce Wayne, the dark question unravels: Is Ra's truly dead…?

* * *

**Villain's View of a Hero #11  
MOTH TO A FLAME**

* * *

"How are you?"

Gray started and tore her eyes away from the window, through which she had been considering the rain drizzling down on the shoulders of quick-paced businesspersons passing by on the street. She glimpsed down at the swirling remains of cream in her coffee, before finally refocusing on the lieutenant sitting opposite her. "I'm sorry, what?"

He gave her a patient smile. "You look a little off today. Is everything all right?"

"I'm fine, really." She stirred her coffee and contemplated the day's plans, mentally scribbling a green checkmark off the current time-wasting event.

"Problems at home, perhaps?" Gordon said insistently, cutting sharply through her train of thought.

She grinned, "If there was, I'd be it. No one else available for the task."

"You live alone?" he asked, surprised.

"You're awfully conversational today, chief. Life really so mundane you actually care?" She watched his bushy eyebrows quirk at the quip, and then explained, "I'm just busy today, you know. Plenty of things to get done."

"Busy getting some plans down for the summer, huh?"

"You could say that." For her plans would be reaching a breaking point before summer was over. At least so she hoped. And hopefully that very evening would be the breakthrough she had been waiting for.

* * *

"Master Bruce?"

"Mmmph..."

"Sun has set, sir. Time to rise and shine." Alfred strode to the bed and pulled one corner of the covers, removing the blanket from the bed entirely, which left his master tangled only in the sheet that had gathered around his waist.

"Kmmpletly ehnnesuhsary..." Bruce said beneath the pillow covering his face. He threw the pillow across the room and narrowly missed the butler. Rubbing his eyes, he glanced at the clock on the bedside table and frowned. "It's not patrol hours yet... It's only seven?"

"Seven be right, sir. And you've got a dinner appointment at eight."

The words dropped down through a haze subsequent to sleep. Bruce squinted up at Alfred, trying to comprehend. "I'm sorry, what?"

"A date, Master Bruce. With a lovely redheaded pin-up, I believe. Does Valerie Kendall ring a bell? I found her contact info from the paper in your briefcase, and you were free tonight, so I set up an appointment and put it in your schedule... You didn't read it in the office?" The scowl on Bruce's face spoke for him. "Ah, well, no worries, I have it all taken care of." He left shortly and then returned with something silky, black, and Italian. "Make sure you wear an unstained tie, please," he added and finally left Bruce to himself.

Bruce spent a full minute just staring at the suit. "Well, isn't this just terror-ific."

* * *

Gray stood still amid the chaos of crisscrossing waiters, trying to see if she could make out any of the men seated by the tables to be Bruce Wayne. There was no telling how much had been photoshopped in the publicized photos of the philanthropist and playboy, so she wasn't exactly sure what she was looking for in the dark strangers' faces.

A baby-faced waiter popped up in front of her. "Miss Kendall?"

Remembering that was who she was supposed to be, she muttered, "Yes?"

"Mr. Wayne is requesting you to join him. I'll show you to his table, if you please."

Gray turned the way he gestured, and smiled charmingly at a man she could only vaguely see seated across the room, on the opposite side of the glassy surface of the dance floor, before she followed the waiter as he weaved past other tables. She recognized the strong jaw she had only seen framed by a black cowl, and moved her eyes further down a muscular frame not quite as bulky in a jacket, shirt, and waistcoat as it had been in an exaggerated set of Kevlar and cape.

"Bruce Wayne," he said and stood up. Taking hold of her hand, he pressed his lips to her knuckles.

Gray fought the urge to wipe her hand and smiled instead. "Who else could you be?" She waited for him to pull out her chair and then sat down, holding her breath in surprise when she felt him breathe in the scent of her perfume. "I hope I didn't keep you waiting?" she uttered when he sat back down, cursing the breathless sound of her voice.

"Not at all," and he smiled, "you were fashionably late."

"So... what's for dinner?" She closed her eyes at the casual slip. "I mean, what's on the menu?"

Wayne appeared to be enjoying her edginess. With an everyday sense of calm, he ordered some high-price name, which she presumed to be wine. "Easy now," he whispered, leaning conspiratorially across the table with a glance left and right, "no reason to be nervous." He glanced at her humorously, a touch a mockery in his voice, "Long time since dating?"

"You could say that." She attempted desperately to contain a blush. Was it really that obvious? This was not good. She was supposed to have the upper hand here! By all accounts, she should not have chosen an element Wayne felt so bashfully comfortable in. The stoic Batman was simpler to be opposed with the exterior of a cop. This playful, bubbly façade Wayne was showing was more than slightly unnerving when she didn't feel at all comfortable in her own skin. He was a socialite, and she was starting to feel suicidal. _Time to save face, girl,_ she snapped at herself_._ "I've been to Asia for some time. It's been a while since I've been faced with American men. They're a bit stiff over there, you know." A pleasant smile to top it.

"Iced and diced," he joked, but the grave set of his smile implied something else.

The waiter returned with the wine and two menus under one arm.

"We'll just have the chef's specialty," Wayne asserted and grabbed the menu out of Gray's hand as soon as the waiter had given it to her, the playboy grin in place all the while.

"Don't you even want to know what that is?" Gray interjected, even though the waiter had already swept off to the kitchens.

"I'll just trust the chef to know what he's doing. It's a fine place; such people pride themselves in knowing what their costumers want. I've never been disappointed before. Even bought the place, come to think of it."

Gray was indeed relieved when the efficiency of the chef interrupted the awkward silence that followed Wayne's statement, and she stared at the sumptuous feast they were served. She almost asked him if he could afford such expensive food on a daily basis, as there was even the best of caviar and cheese. But then she remembered: It was Bruce Wayne.

When they finished their meal, she stared even more when dessert was being served. "Red wine and dark chocolate are aphrodisiacs," she said.

"Really?" Wayne smiled amusedly. "I wasn't aware of that."

_Yeah right,_ thought Gray.

* * *

Bruce was disappointed. Valerie Kendall was pretty enough. Her hair was shiny enough. Her teeth were white enough. But where was the spark? He should have known this would happen. Right from the first word, she had retreated inside herself. It happened sometimes; that his higher than life moneymaker persona scared off ordinary girls. That was what she was. He had known soon enough that she wasn't one of the skimpy bimbos who kept a wide smile and eyes fixed for coin, nor was she an untalented model desperate for sponsorship and a bed buddy.

No, there was something deeply ordinary and real under the polished surface. And he couldn't quite figure out why it was in hiding. Was she afraid? He was starting to be; afraid that he had scared her off like so many others. Yet, she showed no fear. Her smile was delightful but deceiving.

Finished with his meal, Bruce looked around the restaurant, away from the red hair and the crimson dress that seemed to draw him in like a moth to a flame. He eyed the dance floor, which roughly reminded him of a frozen lake, the dancers a farfetched resemblance to fencers. "Would you like to dance?" he implored his date.

"I must admit, I'm not much of a dancer," replied Valerie laughingly.

"Truth be told, neither am I," he grinned. He pressed two fingers against his mouth, eyes narrowing in thought. "Tell you what," he exclaimed and slapped his hands on his thighs, "why don't you come back to my place? You look like you could use a drink... loosen your tongue? And who knows, maybe we can actually dance afterwards."

She blushed and looked prettily flustered. "I... I am not so sure..."

"I'll be the perfect gentleman," Bruce promised. "You have my word." Moreover, Alfred would have his guts for garters if he didn't behave, most likely.

The beauty licked her lips in a nervous fashion, and her eyes flickered back and forth, most likely pondering what to do. "Okay," she then decided, "fine. I'll go."

Bruce smirked triumphantly. She showed to surprise. "Excellent," he said and rose from his seat, leaving a credit card with the bill.

* * *

The manor had been extravagantly rebuilt after its ill-famed demise at the hands of Ra's Al Ghul. It had taken time, but since Batman had kept him so busy, Bruce felt like the years hadn't passed at all. Only the slightest tinge of gray at his temples was a physical reminder, but even this he disguised with clever streaks of dye.

"It looks even bigger on the inside," Valerie spoke with awe. She wandered his massive study, softly touching delicate nails along the faded backs of collected volumes on the bookshelves.

"A toast to bigger things?" It was a cheesy remark, but she smilingly accepted a glass anyway. Bruce took a long draught of the golden liquid and sighed at the calming of his nerves. He had no idea why this woman put him on edge. "So tell me a little about yourself. Are you from Gotham? I'm sure I would've spotted you long ago."

He noted the pause in her step before she turned around to face him and flicked a strand of hair out of her face. "I was born a Gothamite," she said in a low voice, a small crack at the end. "I left when my father died… Went out to see the world. You know the story. I believe you did just the same."

One corner of his lips lifted in irony. Silently wondering how she knew, he simply said, "The tabloids never fail. Yeah, I did." He looked into his glass and swirled the wine, wondering what to do with himself. "Music?" he suggested.

Her glance toward the grandfather clock wasn't missed, but she covered it up quickly and looked back at him. "Yeah, sure," was the reply, yet she sounded like she felt differently.

Nonplussed by her lack of enthusiasm, Bruce continued to play host and put on a jazzy piece. He strode toward the antique leather couch and slouched with his arms on the backrest, feet kicked up on one armrest. He lifted his brows at the girl, waiting for her to move out of the spot. Something seemed to click in her line of decision, and she jerked out of her reposed stance and languidly walked over and sat next to him. Taking in her formal back-straight perch near the edge of the seat, Bruce felt inclined to ask, "What is it about me that makes you so tense?" and still wondered why he felt the same way.

The confrontation appeared to startle her, and she half-turned toward him. "I'm sorry... I just have a lot on my mind, that's all." The following smile proved sincere enough.

"Why don't you tell me about it, then?" he offered.

She fidgeted, running her fingers along the stem of the wine glass. "I really can't."

"Okay…" he sighed, at a complete loss, "...so what do you suggest we do?"

* * *

Gray sighed irritably. Not smooth. It was certainly not going too well. He was attempting to be open to her, but she was too scared to so the same – to jump in and spot his weaknesses. And she had no idea how to proceed without trespassing the fine line of what she was _not_ willing to do to find a way to hurt him.

Realizing she had yet to reply, she let out another tight breath and glanced up at him. "You did mention something about learning how to dance."

He smirked at her advance and added, "More wine it is."

He served her another glass, and Gray tried mostly to just sample the wine. She thought that if she could dull Wayne's senses a bit, it would be easier to survey his person without getting caught. The last thing she wanted was to jeopardize her identities, which were hard enough to keep in check as it was.

"Evening, Miss."

Gray startled at the deep voice of a British gentleman who had appeared behind the couch. He looked only briefly at her, a soft smile, and then turned his attention to Wayne.

"I was just retiring to my room, sir. Did you want anything?"

Wayne waved a dismissive hand in a semi-circle, saying, "We'll be fine, thank you."

When the butler excused himself and left with a respectful bow, Gray felt the urge to ask, "Are you usually this formal?"

"No," was his reply with a slow headshake, but he then added with humor, "Only when he's disagreeable. Alfred's like a father to me. And a friend... The one person I could always count on."

Gray gazed at him intently as he said this. There was a certain vulnerability in his eyes, just for a beat. One single moment of unguarded weakness, naught but a split second, and then the stoic demeanor was back. But it was enough to reveal his affections toward the old butler.

So there was one person dear to him. It was not something she would exploit – that would simply be too cruel – but it was something she would learn from. Knowing how guarded he was with such a small show of emotion showed a lot about him as a person. He was very aware of himself. He was very controlled. That would prove part of the challenge of deciphering other weaknesses he might have. It made her job all the more complicated.

This also meant that what already seemed impossible to achieve – a base for trust, to get her closer to him – would be even more so. If she wanted to, she could easily have killed him now, right then and there… or so she liked to believe. But she had the slight suspicion that the relaxed state he appeared to be in was just as fake as her wig. If anything, he was a better actor than she was. And her mission wasn't to kill him, anyway.

Her mission…

This was the first time it struck her that she was not actually sure exactly what her mission was. "_There are more ways to break a man than to be stronger and smarter than him."_ Those had been Ra's Al Ghul's words. Gray knew that Ra's wanted Wayne out of the way, where he couldn't cause trouble and interfere with his plans. But how to stop a man, if not by killing him? Did Ra's believe that she could change Wayne's mind and make him one of them? Why had she not wondered about this before…? She had only fashioned plans to infiltrate, to learn, to observe, to seek and find a way to break him – morally as well as physically. But what if that was not what Ra's intended? She would not put it past him to ask her to do one thing, while really meaning for her to do something else.

_There are more ways to break a man_… Suppose he meant that quite literally – that she was not supposed to physically defeat him in battle… but break him as only a woman can. Was that why he had found her plan with the wigs interesting? Because she was, unknowingly, headed in the right direction of his intentions with her?

…Did he want her to seduce Bruce Wayne?

"I really need to be getting home," Gray said finally, and found Wayne sitting there with his eyes closed, just listening to the music. Perhaps he was as exhausted as she was. Wouldn't be surprised, considering his pastime activities.

He jolted upright, eyes blinking a couple times, as if he had been close to dozing off. "Yeah. Of course. I'll take you home."

"That won't be necessary—"

"But I must," he insisted.

Then Gray did something that was completely unexpected – to both of them. Seeing no other way out, and not being able to think of a way to tell him no without offsetting her progress, she leaned forward quite suddenly and kissed him on the lips. She had meant for it to be brief, but Wayne had other plans. As soon as her lips were on his, he moved his hand to the nape of her neck, forcing her to stay where she was, but without being rough. She placed her hand on his chest to push away from him, but he must have interpreted it differently, for he moved his other hand to her waist, sliding it up and down her side in a gentle caress.

When he finally moved away, Gray had to do all she could not to breathe heavily (as she had indeed been holding her breath). Abruptly, she stood up and managed to utter a graceful goodnight, before slowly walking in the direction of the nearest exit, at once fleeing the big mansion, the heavy silence, and the Dark Knight.

* * *

**Author's note:** Hiiiiii… I don't know if you remember me. It's been such a long time since I have been active on this site. Hell, it's been a long time since I've been active in writing… something other than school papers, that is. School is keeping me sooo busy, and I know that is no excuse since everybody is busy, yada-yada, but I mean _really_ busy. I have barely had any spare time without any school-related work to do, and the little time I _have_ had has been used on other things. For example, I have a boyfriend now. Won't go blabbering about that, just an example that my time is spent differently now than it was… two years ago…? Really? Time flies!

I want to give a HUGE THANKS to everybody who has taken their precious time to review. I'd thank you individually, but embarrassing as it is, I have lost track of which reviews I've replied to and which I haven't. So, a huge collective thanks to all of you, love you to bits. You guys are the reason I find the time and strength to continue!


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